They Love Us, They Love Us Not
by Ace of Hearts
Summary: Scott isn't exactly too thrilled to see the girl of his dreams dating his number one rival..so he drags Rogue into his very evil scheme to tear the couple apart and keep the pieces for themselves. Thing is, Scott can't hatch an evil plot to save his life
1. With Mouths Wide Open

Well, since people were clammoring for a sequel to If Only You Knew... (yeah right!), I thought I'd cancel the whole music video fic and instead work on this. Now, it's not really a sequel, per say, but it does mention Lance and Jean going out. And, oh yeah, there's going to be some more radio dedications on the way. First up, Aerosmith! (I think we can all guess what the song will be ^_^) 

* * *

**~ They Love Us, They Love Us Not ~**

"...And that was _It's My Life, _by none other than, of course, Bon Jovi," the radio DJ finished grandly. "Now, moving on to dedications, first up we have one from...Pietro! To Evan!"   
"Oh, no!" Scott Summers groaned, as he sat in the Xavier Mansion's airy, sunlit kitchen and listened to the radio. Kitty Pryde and Jubilation Lee, perched on the counter stools and casually spooning strawberry yogurt into their mouths, perked up upon hearing the names.   
"Gee, I wonder what it's going to be this time, and how he's going to top that last one," Jubilation spoke up, a mischievous grin lighting up her face. Kitty swallowed, before commenting, "Well, he's used an arsenal of songs, but personally, I'd go with the original one, and say that _Like A Virgin_ created the most shockwaves."   
"You've got a point there, although as for me, I'd go with--" Jubilation started to say.   
"Will you two just quiet down?" Scott demanded irritably, sinking lower in his seat. Jubilation stuck out her tongue at him behind his back, then turned to Kitty and whispered, just loud enough for Scott to hear, "What's with _him_ today?"   
"Oh, it's the one-month anniversary since Lance and Jean first started going out, so he's taking her out on some ultra-romantic date, and since Scott still has this big old crush on Jean..." Kitty explained, snickering. Just when the two girls were about to be murdered by a seriously pissed Scott, however, the DJ chirped brightly, "And I think we've kept you folks waiting long enough! From Pietro to Evan, here's Aerosmith's _Dude Looks Like A Lady!"_   
Fortunately for the girls, the particular announcement was enough to send all three of them into shock, and Scott, who was ready to strangle the both of them, tripped and rather unceremoniously fell flat on his behind.   
"Ow, my butt..." Scott groaned, motioning as if to reach down and rub said sore spot, before quickly catching himself and turning beet-red, as like a flash of lightning, the hand disappeared into his pocket. Uncomfortably, Scott quickly cleared his throat, but it was already too late, as Kitty and Jubilation had already noticed that their mighty, fearless leader had just said the word 'butt' and had almost reached down to rub it in pain, and burst into a fit of giggles. 

The two girls, however, seemed to be on a major lucky streak, though, as someone else interrupted Scott just as he was about to try and wring their necks for the second time that day. In a puff of smoke and brimstones, a rather bedraggled-looking Kurt Wagner teleported right amidst the trio in the kitchen. Kitty especially looked surprised, as the phrase black and blu_er _came to mind upon seeing Kurt's condition.   
"Whoa! What happened to you?" Jubilation's spoon froze midway to her lips, as she gawked openly at Kurt in shock. Kurt reached up with one hand and gingerly felt around at all the red bumps that protruded from his hair.   
"Well, apparently, the members of the Brotherhood value privacy above another human life," the German mutant grumbled. Kitty nearly fell off her stool.   
"You mean they tried to kill you?!" she squeaked nervously.   
"I wouldn't really call it kill, per say, but let's just--" Kurt started to explain. Scott let out an impatient huff and prodded irritably, "Enough about your misfortunes! Just proceed on with your report."   
Kurt gave him the evil eye, before resisting the urge to stick out his tongue at his leader and grudgingly pulling out a tiny little notebook from his pocket. Clearing his throat, he proceeded on.   
"Ten-forty-five: Lance picks up Jean in his Jeep for their date. Eleven o' clock: Lance and Jean arrive at some glitzy hotel--I couldn't catch the name since by then I was blinded by all the exhaust fumes after clinging to the belly of the car for fifteen minutes--for a leisurely brunch. Eleven-twenty-five: I get kicked out by hotel security for not paying for brunch. Eleven-forty-five: Lance and Jean exit the hotel and head to the new mall over on Palm Avenue. Twelve-fifteen: Lance and Jean go to the music store, where Lance buys Jean some Celine Dion album. Twelve-forty-three: Lance and Jean head off for a little jewelry stand. Twelve-forty-four: Lance finds out I'm following them, and stuffs me into the nearest trash can." Kurt paused. "After this, I don't have the exact times, since Todd stole my watch after he and Pietro, who had also been tagging along but were successful in remaining hidden, beat the living cra--um, living stuffing out of me for messing around with their buddy, hence both my black eyes."   
"Didn't you at least attempt at disguising yourself so you wouldn't be recognized so easily?" Scott exclaimed irritably. Kurt gave an indignant huff.   
"I _did_ disguise myself!" He then proudly twirled around, like one of those size-zero, one hundred percent silicone fashion models at the catwalk. "What do you think this is?"   
"Um, a cloth garbage bag that you put together in Clothing?" Kitty spoke up, attempting to hide the grin from her face. Kurt shot her the evil eye.   
"You...you dimwit! I'm disguised as the one and only Muscles from Brussels, duh!" he scoffed. Jubilation perked up.   
"Oh, you mean Jean-Claude Van Damme?" Her eyes then narrowed critically, as she looked up Kurt's highly impressive physique. "I don't know...you look more like that scrawny, belly-jiggling Kid Rock than Van Damme."   
"Who's Jean-Claude Van Damme?" Kitty asked questioningly. Jubilation turned around in her stool.   
"He's that hot fireman guy from _Sudden Death,_ remember?" she reminded the other girl, and Kitty's face lit up.   
"Oh, yeah!" A guilty smile lit appeared on her face. "You know, I never really went for the muscular type, but that guy has a really cute face, and..."   
"Yeah, I know! And I just love his accent!" Jubilation added. "Plus, the way he kicks and everything, I mean, it's just like wow!"   
"I know!" Kitty agreed emphatically. "I mean, I don't usually go for the action hero type, but I mean, Van Damme is one of the cutest--"   
"Ahem! Can we please get back to the subject at hand?" Scott barked, annoyed, while Kurt examined his self-proclaimed abs of steel and repeated to himself, over and over, "I do _not_ look like Kid Rock, I do _not_ look like Kid Rock, I do _not_ look like Kid Rock...Who's Kid Rock, anyway? Is he the one who's touching himself all the time...No wait, that's Michael Jackson! Or was that the guy from Alien Ant Farm? Hey, wait, didn't the Limp Bizkit guy grab his crotch during that _Rollin'_ video?"   
"Kurt!" Scott yelled irritably. Kurt stopped mumbling about how he didn't look like Kid Rock--whomever he may be--and turned around to face his leader.   
"What?" he wanted to know.   
"Tell us what happened next," Scott demanded. Kurt looked down at the ground.   
"Well, you see, the funniest thing happened," he squeaked nervously. Scott glared down at him.   
"Don't tell me you got distracted by the Victoria's Secret display and lost them!" he exclaimed. Kurt perked up.   
"Okay, then, I won't tell you," he chirped brightly. Scott looked like he didn't know whether to smack him or strangle him...or give him an atomic wedgie, or tie him to the flagpole by the tail, or force him to watch bass-fishing until his head exploded, or...   
"Hey, if you two are going to catfight, would you mind toning it down on the screeching?" Kitty spoke up absently, from where she was gathered around the radio with Jubilation. The dark-haired Chinese girl also lifted her head, long enough to add, "Yeah, the radio dedications have come back on, and we almost missed the first song."   
"...to Jean, a very special song for a very special lady, on a very special event," the DJ finished. The name of the person who would be receiving the dedication caught Scott's attention, and he quickly shoved Kurt out of the way and made a beeline for the radio.   
"And here's the song dedication, _With Arms Wide Open, _by Creed," the DJ finished, as the opening chords of the rock ballad began to play. 

"Well I just heard the news today   
It seems my life is going to change   
I closed my eyes, begin to pray   
Then tears of joy stream down my face 

With arms wide open   
Under the sunlight   
Welcome to this place   
I'll show you everything   
With arms wide open" 

_Hn, so far, so good, _Scott thought to himself, noticing that WAWO wasn't showing signs of turning into one of those cheesy, sappy love songs that girls claim they hate and then melt for once a boyfriend either sings them or dedicates them. However, a nagging story was poking around in the back of Scott's mind, as he remembered that WAWO had been written with a specific purpose in mind. He just couldn't quite remember what that purpose was, though... 

"Well I don't know if I'm ready   
To be the man I have to be   
I'll take a breath, I'll take her by my side   
We stand in awe, we've created life" 

_What a lovely song, no wonder everyone was yapping about how great Arms Wide Open is, it's actually a hopeful ode to...to...to an unborn son?!_ Scott's head snapped up, as realization dawned upon him. _Oh, my God! Lance just dedicated WAWO to Jean! That means that Lance...that Lance...just got Jean pregnant!_

A couple of blocks away, in a stylish Victorian, a lavish baby shower was taking place. One of the ladies attending the celebration reached over to the radio and cranked up the volume even louder. 

"With arms wide open   
Under the sunlight   
Welcome to this place   
I'll show you everything   
With arms wide open   
Now everything has changed   
I'll show you love   
I'll show you everything   
With arms wide open" 

"Aw, Jeannie, that was so sweet of your husband to dedicate With Arms Wide Open to you," she squealed. Jeannie picked up a pink-and-blue baby blanket, hugging it close to her stomach and smiling.   
"I know," she agreed. 

"If I had just one wish   
Only one demand   
I hope he's not like me   
I hope he understands   
That he can take this life   
And hold it by the hand   
And he can greet the world   
With arms wide open..." 

Cue back to the Xavier Institute, where a disturbingly girly scream had emanated, loud enough to be heard halfway around the globe (and surely at the humble Brotherhood abode), followed by the telltale thump that signaled a male body hitting the floor, unceremoniously smacking his butt on his chair during the fall. Kurt, Kitty, and Jubilation stared down uncertainly at the unconscious Scott. Just then...   
"And next up, we have a dedication from Evan to Pietro, which came in right after the _Dude Looks Like A Lady _request," the DJ chirped brightly.   
"Ooh!" Kitty and Jubilation squealed, as they turned to crank up the radio volume, and Kurt stepped over his leader's prone body without a second thought to join in on the fun. 

* * *

That's it for today! Next chapter will see the entrance of none other than Rogue, who'll be dragged into a harebrained scheme by Scott to split up the odd couple of Lance and Jean. 


	2. Just A Stalker

"And next up, we have a dedication from Evan to Pietro," the radio DJ was saying.   
"Ah ha!" Evan leapt over to hog the radio, rubbing his hands in anticipation. Twirling around in their kitchen stools and leafing through equally glossy copies of _Seventeen_ and _Cosmopolitan,_ respectively, Kitty and Jubilation watched him as if he had gone nuts, before Kitty rolled her eyes while Jubilation not-so-discreetly made the well-he's-crazy motion with her index finger. Evan, however, ignored the two girl's less-than-polite reaction, and instead hung on to the DJ's every word as said DJ announced grandly, "Now, Evan has requested that the name of his song dedication be made a secret, but he claims that once you hear this song, you'll be able to immediately recognize it! And here we go..."   
And then the radio speakers promptly started blasting none other than a very familiar No Doubt tune, as Evan and the two girls immediately recognized Gwen Stefani's distinctive voice belting out the lyrics to _Just A Girl._   
"What the...!" Evan screeched, falling out of his chair in shock, while Gwen continued to sing, "Oh, I'm just a girl..." while Kitty and Jubilation collapsed into a giggling fit. Evan fumed, as he growled, "Argh, there must be a conspiracy out there against me!"   
"Ooh, and I suppose this is where the eerie _X-Files_ music is supposed to begin?" Kitty teased, rolling her eyes as she and Jubilation giggled again.   
"No, I'm serious, man!" Evan protested indignantly, ignoring the dirty looks that Kitty was shooting in his direction for calling her 'man'. "I mean, that Pietro must be paying the radio DJ or something to keep on mixing up my requests!"   
"Right," Jubilation mocked. "And I'm sure that right now at this moment, Rogue is singing that stupid Barney theme in the shower!" 

Cue over to the radio station, where Pietro was handing over to the DJ a briefcase filled to the brim with twenty-dollar bills--never mind where the cash came from *coughcoughXavier'ssafecoughcough*. As _Just A Girl _finished playing and the station went to a commercial break, Pietro could be heard distinctively saying, "It's been a pleasure working with you, Igor."   
"That's Chris," the DJ spoke up protestingly. Pietro patted him on the back.   
"Gotcha, Oswaldo," he murmured condescendingly, patting the DJ on the shoulder.   
"No, you don't understand, my name is--" the DJ tried to say, when Pietro promptly cut him off yet again.   
"I know, Iggy Poop, I know," he chattered happily, while the DJ threw up his hands in frustration and gave up on trying to correct the cocky silver-haired youth. 

Back at the Xavier Mansion, Evan was still moaning about how there must be a radio conspiracy out against him, while Kitty and Jubilation calmly ignored him, having found the topic of how to rate David Duchovny on the Sexiness Scale far more interesting than the evil DJ's who were out to get their teammate. 

* * *

"...I don't know, Lance, I mean, the woman's trying to raise three children by herself, you've got to give her some credit," Jean was saying from where she was sitting cross-legged on the lakeside bench. Seated next to her, Lance made a face.   
"I don't care how many children Mrs. Langley's raising, she's still the meanest Home Ec. teacher I've ever had." He then crossed his eyes and wrinkled his forehead in an imitation of said Home Ec. teacher. "Alvers! Don't you even think of ditching class; I'm on to you and your emergency trips to the restroom that conveniently lead to the student parking lot! Maximoff, is that a cherry bomb I see in your pocket? Dukes, if I catch your hand in the cookie jar one more time, I'm going to make you wish you'd never set foot in Mrs. Amanda Luella Patricia Jones Washington Jefferson Langley's classroom! Tolansky, you...you...Oh, my God! Don't tell me you actually washed your hands this time!" And he pretended to flutter to the ground and faint dead away. Jean giggled at his shenanigans.   
"Okay, so maybe you've got a point, and she _is_ kind of grumpy," the beautiful redhead finally admitted. "But still..." 

Meanwhile, in the bushes behind the couple, a tall, masculine figure decked out in combat fatigues crouched in a rather uncomfortable-looking position and spied--erm, that is, casually observed--Lance and Jean through a pair of binoculars.   
"Subjects are currently discussing what appears to be politics," Scott murmured into his walkie talkie. There was the sound of static, followed by a stretch of silence and what sounded like an accented male voice (very badly) singing _Light My Fire,_ so off-key and out of tune that Jim Morrison was surely turning in his grave right about now (not to mention wishing for a pair of extra snug earplugs!).   
"Subjects are currently discussing what appears to be politics," Scott repeated, a bit more irritably at being ignored the first time.   
"...Come on baby, light my fire..." a tinny voice could be heard faintly crooning over the walkie talkie.   
"I said, subjects are currently discussing what appears to be politics!" Scott hissed acidly into the walkie talkie.   
"My teacher ate my homework!" Kurt's voice came over the speaker after a burst static, as Scott rolled his eyes. Fortunately for Kurt, though, before Scott was to launch into another one of his long, boring lectures, Lance and Jean got up from their seat and began strolling toward the lake.   
"Subjects are now taking a lakeside stroll," Scott murmured into the mouthpiece of his walkie talkie.   
"It's my life, and it's now or never..." came the prompt, scratchy response.   
"Kurt!" Scott nearly hollered, before remembering that neither Jean nor Lance were supposed to find out that they had an unseen chaperone.   
"My neighbor's sister's daughter's cat ate my homework!" Kurt retorted, before remembering that he was no longer in old Mrs. Schbeicker's arithmetics class, and let out a guilty tee hee. "Oh, oops. Sorry, I'll try to pay attention next time."   
"Good!" Scott hissed angrily. "Subjects are still strolling by the lake. Subjects are now skipping pebbles across the water. Subject A is now handing over a wildflower to Subject B, grrr! Subject B is now kissing Subject A on the cheek, double grrr! Subjects are now..." 

Just then, an object tapped Scott across the shoulder, and had there been a ceiling, Scott would have surely hit his head on it from jumping so high.   
"Aiiieee!" the brave, fearless leader of the X-Men screeched in a disturbingly girlie squeal. Thankfully for Kurt, he was too busy pretending to be Matchbox 20 frontman Rob Thomas to pay any attention to the walkie talkie, and thus did not get his eardrums popped by Scott's girlie scream. Scott swung around, binoculars still in hand, and found himself focusing on a bare midriff covered by a sheer green silk blouse. He swung the binoculars higher, and it wasn't long before the tall senior recognized the familiar face of none other than Rogue, who was staring down questioningly at him.   
"Oh, Rogue," Scott mumbled guiltily. "Um...would you believe me if I told you I was bird watching?" 

"...Sweet dreams are made of...something!" Kurt was hollering, bopping his head along to the eighties rock tune, as Rogue dragged a camouflaged Scott through the glass sliding doors.   
"I told you, I wasn't stalking them!" Scott insisted, as he walked over to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of lemonade. "I was just...keeping a watchful eye on Lance. You know, to make sure that he didn't do anything."   
"Right," Rogue drawled patronizingly. "Don't worry, Scottie, I believe you."   
Scott shot her a nasty look, but just as he was about to spit out his comeback, Jean and Lance bounded into the room, holding hands.   
"Hi," Jean greeted cheerfully. Lance carefully avoided making eye contact with Scott, and instead focused his attention on Rogue. Scott grumpily muttered something under his breath, and Jean seemed to sense that something was up with him, as an uncomfortable stretch of silence passed between the two.   
"So..." Jean's voice trailed off uncertainly.   
"It's a beautiful day!" Kurt screeched out over Bono's far more pleasant voice, and Jean grimaced before quickly propelling Lance out of the room.   
"Trust me, you don't want to stick around when Kurt starts doing his Bono impression," she murmured, as she and Lance exited the room.   
"Bye, Lance," Rogue called out, receiving an absent two-finger wave from the tall, dark-haired senior. 

Rogue turned around in her stool...and found herself face-to-face with Scott, who was now gazing intently at her. Rogue felt a blush coming on, and quickly dipped her head, flustered and desperately avoiding eye contact.   
"What are you looking at?" she demanded, hoping to get rid of her blush as quickly as possible.   
"Rogue, I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer as honestly as possible," Scott began seriously.   
"Um, okay," Rogue agreed shyly, carefully keeping her eyes on the floor. Scott took a deep breath, before popping the question.   
"Did you have a relationship with Lance when you were in the Brotherhood?" he wanted to know. Rogue snapped up.   
"WHAT?!" she hissed, cheeks flaring an angry scarlet. Scott, however, was happily oblivious to her ire.   
"There's no need to be ashamed of it, I mean, I saw the way he looked at you when he came into the room, and how you went out of your way to get his attention and remind him you were still there when he was about to leave with Jean," he rattled on. Rogue looked like she wanted to slap the seriousness right out of him.   
"The only reason he focused on me was because he didn't want to talk to you!" she snapped. "After all, you _are_ the one who's been unsuccessfully trying to break up his relationship with Jean!"   
Scott looked crestfallen.   
"Oh," he murmured. "For a while there, I was hoping you could be the key to breaking up Lance and Jean...Wait a minute! You can still help me break those two up!"   
"WHAT?!" Rogue hollered, outraged, but Scott happily ignored her outburst.   
"No, really," he murmured. "Picture this: We tear those two apart, shatter their relationship into a million tiny little pieces...and keep those pieces for ourselves! What do you say?"   
"I say you're one of the nicest guys to ever grace our pitiful little lives," Rogue replied dryly.   
"....Beautiful stripped meeeeeeah!" Kurt shrilled out. Scott and Rogue both turned around to openly gawk at their blue-furred friend, who blushed and ducked his head.   
"Sorry," Kurt eeped meekly. 

* * *

Ta da! And the second installation of _They Love Us, They Love Us Not_ is now finally complete, after about enough bite-size mini-brownies to make Cindy Crawford balloon up to a size fourteen and with _It's My Life_ cranked up to ninety decibels, loud enough to make the neighbors deaf so that they can't call the police! ^_^ Me evil. Me also tired. Me gonna take a break from the computer to ogle the Rolling Stone issue with Creed on the cover. Me gonna prepare to wipe off drool. -_- 


	3. Not A Stalker (Supposedly), Not Yet A Bo...

I'm back! Mwahahahaha! Thought I'd abandoned this thing, didn'tcha? ^_^ Okay, anyway, since I started this fic _waaay_ back before _The HeX Factor_ aired, let's just pretend that it's set before Mystique returned and Wanda arrived, and Tabitha left (or got kicked out of or whatever--I missed the episode *sniff*) the Brotherhood. 

* * *

"...I'll go wherever you will go..." Kitty sang along to the radio, as she and Jubilation lounged in the sunny Xavier kitchen on a beautiful Friday afternoon, counting down the hours to the six o' clock showing of the new Ben Affleck movie. Jubilation, leaning forward on her kitchen stool and gazing at the glowing sky-blue monitor of her laptop, squinted her eyes as she read a particular piece of information, before asking her chestnut-haired friend, "Who's Brandon Boyd?" Kitty stopped singing along to the radio, and frowned, eyebrows knitting in concentration as she pondered over the other girl's question.   
"I think he's the lead singer of Incubus," she finally said, shrugging her shoulders. "I'm not sure though; I mean that band's pretty much an underground rock group, so I wouldn't know."   
"Oh, okay," Jubilation conceded, as she went back to viewing the web page she'd brought up on her laptop. Kitty moved over in her stool and leaned over the Chinese girl's shoulder to peek at the site.   
"What are you looking at, anyway?" she wanted to know, scanning down the list of names, some familiar, most unfamiliar.   
"Oh, just some poll about who's the Sexiest Frontman of Rock & Roll," Jubilation murmured absently. Kitty's eyes lit up.   
"Oh, that's so easy, I have to laugh," she said, giggling. "It's got to be without a question Mark McGrath from Sugar Ray."   
Jubilation stopped browsing, as a thundercloud began to pass over her eyes.   
"Excuse me?" she demanded, her voice rising several notches. "You must be joking! Everyone knows that Matchbox Twenty's Rob Thomas is the sexiest frontman in rock history!"   
Kitty's eyes began to narrow.   
"Uh, no, I wasn't joking," she seethed. "It's Mark McGrath!"   
"No, it's Rob Thomas," Jubilation gritted out in return, stubbornly sticking to her guns.   
"Mark!" Kitty yelled.   
"Rob!" Jubilation retorted.   
"Mark!"   
"Rob!"   
"Mark!"   
"Rob!" 

Just then, Rogue, Jean, and Amara entered the kitchen as a group, and heard the commotion. Rogue wrinkled her nose, as she crossed the airy, sunlit room to the refrigerator and reached inside to grab a bottle of iced raspberry tea.   
"What are you two fussing over?" she demanded moodily, appearing to be in an even sourer disposition than usual. Kitty and Jubilation stopped throwing the two names at each other, and turned around as one to face Rogue.   
"Jubilation's saying that Rob Thomas is the sexiest rock frontman, which is obviously _so_ not true, since we all know Mark McGrath is the most desirable man in rock & roll," Kitty explained. Jubilation's chestnut-brown eyes shot daggers at the pretty brunette.   
"Excuse me?" she spat out. "You just go ahead and try to find _one_ person who can honestly say that some bleach-blonde surfer bum is sexier than Rob Thomas!"   
"Oh, I can find more than just one--" Kitty started to exclaim heatedly, when Rogue broke in.   
"Ugh, I honestly don't know why the two of you are getting so worked up over this," the moody Southern girl grumbled. Her tone cleared a bit, as she admitted blushingly, "Besides, I personally think that Jon Bon Jovi is the most desirable man in rock & roll. What can I say, I like high cheekbones in a guy."   
At this unusual moment, both Amara and Jean turned to stare at their companion, while Kitty and Jubilation forgot what they were bickering about and joined the other two girls in gawking at Rogue. The slim, auburn-haired Southern girl turned to look at all the eyes on her.   
"What?" she demanded grumpily, and the others quickly lowered their eyes. Rogue let out an insulted huff. "Ugh, just because I _listen_ to Marilyn Manson doesn't mean I'm going to be so crazy as to nominate _him_ as the Sexiest Frontman of Rock & Roll!"   
Amara Acquilla bit down thoughtfully on her lower lip, as she leaned over to scan the list of candidates on the website poll. Her eyes lit up as she closed in on a particular name, and she let out a squeal.   
"Whoo hoo! I _knew_ he would make it!" Amara cheered happily, looking like she wanted to do a little victory dance but was refraining from doing so due to the very much unwanted audience she would then have.   
"Who made it?" Jean asked neutrally, as Amara gave a happy sigh before murmuring dreamily, "Johnny Rzeznik from The Goo Goo Dolls."   
Kitty scowled.   
"Ugh, how can you find _him_ sexy, he looks like he just got out of bed with that wild hairstyle of his!" she scorned. Amara turned to look at her like she was crazy.   
"Duh! That's what _makes_ him so sexy!" she spoke.   
"Well, personally, I still say that Rob Thomas is the hottest guy in rock..." Jubilation began to proclaim, at the same time that Rogue cut in with, "Will you three just give it up on your guys, I mean, have you _seen_ Jon Bon Jovi's cheekbones?"   
"I'm telling you, Mark McGrath is the most desirable rock frontman...!" Kitty pouted stubbornly. Jean watched the exchange, and began to feel an incoming migraine, as she tiredly rubbed her temples.   
"Will the four of you just knock it off?" she scolded. "You're fighting over who's the sexiest rock frontman as if you were actually going out with your candidates!"   
At this, Kitty, Jubilation, Rogue, and Amara fell silent, much to the beautiful redhead's relief, then seemed to turn and join forces to confront said redhead. Jean stared in wary bewilderment as the four girls advanced on her.   
"And what about you, Jean?" Amara wanted to know.   
"M...Me?" Jean stammered, instinctively backing away from the quartet.   
"Yeah, Jean, who do _you_ think should be awarded the title of _the_ Sexiest Frontman Of Rock & Roll?" Jubilation asked.   
"Don't...don't be silly," Jean laughed nervously. "I'm already in a relationship, it's not fair for me to be checking out rock stars when I _have_ a boyfriend."   
"Aw, c'mon," Kitty urged. "Surely you must have at least _one_ celebrity crush, even while dating Lance!"   
Jean hesitated, a guilty blush beginning to stain her cheeks, and the other girls pounced on her embarrassment.   
"Come on, Jean, fess up," Rogue murmured. "Who is it?"   
"Yeah, Jean, who's your Sexiest Rock Frontman?" Kitty wanted to know. Jean sighed, before throwing up her hands in defeat.   
"All right, all right," she finally murmured. "If you must know, personally I think Creed frontman Scott Stapp is the sexiest man in rock & roll. Now are you happy?"   
"Very," Amara said, giggling. 

"And that was _My Sacrifice,_ by Creed," the radio DJ said, as Jean blushed and the other girls giggled. "Up next, we have the usual song dedications!"   
"Yay! I wonder what Pietro's come up with this time!" Kitty cheered, as she and Rogue, Amara, and Jubilation made a mad dash for the radio, much to the relief of a now scarlet Jean.   
"Now, the message says that a certain Evan Daniels has been feeling down in the dumps lately, so he's dedicated this song to himself to cheer him up," the DJ continued. Kitty scrunched up her nose in confusion.   
"Huh? The last time I spoke to Evan, he was raving about how there was a radio DJ conspiracy out against him, and looked more paranoid than down," she wondered out loud.   
"From Evan to himself," the DJ announced dramatically. _"Not A Girl, Not Yet A Woman,_ by Britney Spears!"   
As waves of mad giggling rang across the kitchen and Kitty finally figured out her question, one could almost swear they heard Evan stop ranting about the evil DJ's and holler, "PIETROOOO!" 

* * *

"Pleasure working with you, Dilbert," Pietro chirped brightly, as he forked over the cash. The DJ glared at him, before gritting out, "For the last time, Mr. Maximoff, my name is Chris!"   
"I know, Billy Bob, I know," Pietro murmured soothingly, talking in a tone people usually reserved for very young children.   
"Chris, you white-haired freak! Chris!" the DJ hollered impatiently, nearly throwing down his headset onto the panel.   
"Geez, calm down Fonzi." Pietro blinked. "Calm down."   
"Oh, you little..." the DJ growled, grumbling under his breath in a rush of incomprehensible descriptions about Pietro that surely couldn't be too flattering to the silver-haired youth. 

* * *

"...Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Alice In Chains, and Soundgarten..." Tabitha rattled off. She then brightened up. "Oh, and I think he also has a copy of--wait, wait! Okay: I _know_ he has a copy of Motörhead's _No Sleep 'Til Hammersmith,_ so that makes it both grunge _and_ underground hard rock, but from what I can tell, Lance's anthem album is actually Def Leppard's _Pyromania. _You know, _Rock! Rock! Till You Drop_ and _Rock Of Ages?"_   
"Well, can he possibly _be_ any more of a walking pun?" Rogue muttered sarcastically, trying to smother a yawn. She and Tabitha had just spent the last hour discussing Lance's favorite movies, Lance's favorite rock bands, Lance's favorite food...She probably wouldn't have minded it so much if she was one of the hoards of girls who lusted after Lance (and she knew more girls who had a crush on him than she really cared to know), but the problem was, she _wasn't_ romantically interested in Lance. But what else could she do, when a manic Scott had practically shoved her right through the Brotherhood's flimsy wooden door and barked off like a drill sergeant that her mission was to find out as much as she could about Lance and use that information to hook up with him, leaving Scott free to chase after Jean. Which, Rogue might add sourly, was something he had been doing for the past three years with zilch success, but was something that Lance had accomplished in, what, three days? Three _hours,_ perhaps?   
"Okay, now, he would never--and I mean, never, _ever_--admit it to anyone, but he secretly listens to hair bands of the eighties; it's his guilty pleasure, I guess," Tabitha was droning. "There's Def Leppard, of course, but he waves the fact that he owns a copy of _Pyromania_ like a banner, so I guess that's not a guilty pleasure. But, I definitely know that he secretly has at least one KISS album and one Poison album each; I think he might also have Bon Jovi's _Slippery When Wet,_ I'm not sure, though, I'll have to check..." 

Outside, Scott, who was leaning against the termite-ridden wooden front door of the humble Brotherhood boarding house, tried to keep from yawning as he listened to Tabitha rattle off information about Lance's likes and dislikes. _Ugh, could this possibly get any more boring? _he thought to himself irritably.   
"Oh, and you'll have the see the way Lance chews his food in the morning..." Tabitha suddenly chirped brightly. Scott felt like smacking his forehead with the heel of his hand. _Great! I just _had_ to go and open my big...um..._Since he hadn't exactly spoken out loud, Scott had to pause for a while to think. _My big...um...my big...mind! Yeah! That's it, my big mind...Wait a minute, that didn't make me sound conceited, did it? Gee, I sure hope not, 'cause I may be all serious and whatever, but no one can accuse me of being a stuck up, arrogant, snobby...Hey, is that a quarter? _Distracted, Scott didn't notice that he had been leaning too hard on the rotting, termite-ridden front door of the Brotherhood home, and ended up crashing through the flimsy wood and into the Brotherhood home, just as Tabitha was rattling off to a suddenly interested Rogue, "And you should really see him working out; he always wears this old ripped black T-shirt...Oh, hey there, Shades. Didn't see you come in. So, like I was saying, once, he started taking his shirt off _before_ he hit the showers, and the thing just ripped off--I mean, it was like a strip show or something!"   
Scott smiled weakly, as Tabitha continued to ramble a description of how Lance looked like without a shirt to Rogue, who had seemingly taken new interest in the topic, before quickly grabbing his gothic friend by the hand and muttering, "We've got to go now. Danger Room session, and all that lovely stuff."   
"But she was just getting to the good part...!" Rogue started to protest, as Scott ground his teeth and yanked her out of the crumbling, rotting old Victorian anyway. 

As soon as they were outside and out of earshot of one blonde bombshell, Scott pulled Rogue aside and demanded, "Well? What did you find out about him?"   
Rogue darted one last longing look at the Brotherhood house--and Tabitha and her stories of Lance working out--before reluctantly getting into Scott's car.   
"According to Tabitha, Lance likes grunge and hard rock," she began. "He works out in a tight little black T-shirt which he then rips off before going to the showers, he secretly likes eighties hair bands, such as Def Leppard and Poison, he works out in a tight little black T-shirt which he then rips off before going to the showers, he supposedly chews in the most adorable way, he works out in a tight little black T-shirt which he then rips off before going to the showers, his anthem is Def Leppard's _Rock! Rock! Till You Drop,_ he works out in a tight little black T-shirt which he then rips off before going to the showers, his favorite food is shrimp, he works out in a tight little black T-shirt which he then rips off before going to the showers, his main hobby is working out...and, oh, yeah, did I mention that he works out in a tight little black T-shirt which he then rips off before going to the showers?"   
"Yes," Scott gritted out in a clipped tone, then added, "Five thousand times in the last five minutes."   
Rogue shrugged.   
"Oh, well," she mumbled, as she fastened her seatbelt and Scott began to pull out of the driveway and head toward the Xavier mansion.   
"So," Rogue ventured, "now that I've learned everything I possibly could about Lance, how are you going to use that knowledge to help you snag Jean as your girlfriend?"   
"You'll see." Scott grinned mysteriously--not to mention maniacally as well. Rogue shrugged again, deciding that she wasn't sure she wanted to know.   
"Oh, oh!" she suddenly spoke up. "I forgot something else that Lance does!"   
"What is it?" Scott asked, as he rounded a corner. Rogue looked pleased with herself that she had remembered, as she took a deep breath...before promptly rattling off, "He works out in a tight little black T-shirt which he then rips off before going to the showers!" 


	4. Cookies & Clunkers

"...So if you want me to lay my hands on you; Lay your hands on me, lay your hands on me, lay your hands on me..."   
Kitty and Jubilation gathered around the radio, set to an eighties metal station and blasting Bon Jovi's _Lay Your Hands On Me_ at ninety decibels. Fortunately for the two X-girls, Scott was out, obsessing about Jean dating Lance and dragging poor Rogue with him, and thus they got no huffy orders to turn down the radio and stop disturbing others from doing their homework. Kitty nodded along the song, following the words closely on the lyrics page she'd brought up on Jubilation's lap top.   
"You know, I can't figure out why my parents always make such a big deal about eighties hair metal bands," the chestnut-haired freshman muttered. "I mean, it's not as if they're _that_ loud or anything--although Guns N' Roses' _Welcome To The Jungle_ came pretty darn close to breaking the supersonic range."   
Jubilation shrugged at the GN'R remark, then apparently found something more interesting to focus on, as she remarked, "Hey, speak of the devil...They're playing that exact video on VH1. Some kind of eighties countdown show."   
"Oh, really?" Kitty leaned over, turning down the radio volume a couple of notches, as she asked, "What number did they rank?"   
"Nine," came the prompt response from the pretty Chinese girl, and her chestnut-haired housemate remarked, "Hey, that's pretty cool."   
"You know what else is cool?" Jubilation spoke up. Kitty shrugged.   
"What?" she wanted to know, not bothering to guess.   
"Axl Rose's hair in the video," Jubilation replied. At this, Kitty inched closer, studiously observing Axl's hairstyle, before nodding, "Eh...it's okay, I guess. Personally, I never went for the wild eighties hair thing."   
"Yeah, me neither, but look at how cute he is in that '88 interview," Jubilation remarked.   
"Ooh, let me see!" Kitty moved in to get a closer look, and was soon agreeing vigorously, "Wow, he _is_ cute...Who knew a guy could have longer hair than both you and I, and still look absolutely gorgeous?"   
Jubilation shrugged.   
"Beats me," she mumbled. "Hey, speaking of gorgeous guys with long hair..." 

Much to the two girls annoyance, before they could continue their discussion of gorgeous guys with long hair, a manic-looking Evan dashed down the stairs, interrupting their conversation and making a beeline straight to the radio, switching the station from eighties rock to modern-day pop, as he ranted, "The dedications are about to come on, and this time, I _know_ I'm going to get my request right!"   
Just then, the song ended, and the DJ's voice came back on, to announce grandly, "And now, we have a request dialed in a few minutes ago, from a young man named Evan Daniels."   
Evan triumphantly pumped his fist into the air at hearing that.   
"Yes! I _knew_ my bribe would work," he crowed, starting to do a little victory dance but abruptly stopping when he realized that both Kitty and Jubilation were now staring at him with wide eyes.   
"Now, you must realize that this is one of the more obscure songs, originally released several decades ago, and it was quite a pain in the you-know-where to find. But, I'm proud to say that the good people here at the station have finally dug up a copy of the song," the DJ continued, as Evan began to look suspicious.   
"Hey," he began to protest, to no one in particular, "I didn't phone in such an obscure song..."   
Before he could continue, however, the DJ dropped the bomb by announcing the title of the song.   
"Here is Evan's dedication--to himself, apparently--Peggy Lee's _I'm A Woman!"_   
Evan's eyes bugged wide open, as Kitty and Jubilation struggled yet failed pathetically to keep in their fits of giggling.   
"PIETROOOOOOO!!!" 

* * *

Over at the radio station, the DJ waited expectantly as Pietro forked over the cash he'd stolen from Xavier's safe.   
"Here you go, Buh Buh," Pietro chirped happily. The DJ started to get angry, as he gritted out, "For the last time, that's...Oh, forget it!" He snapped grumpily, as he realized that it was a hopeless cause to argue some sense into the silver-haired youth gloating in front of him.   
"That's the spirit, Jujube, that's the spirit," Pietro preened. Glancing over his shoulder, the slender Brotherhood boy added, sounding somewhat confused, "By the way, a bunch of skateboards were sent to you earlier today. They're in your locker right now, squashing a bunch of important-looking documents." 

* * *

Scott leaned as far as he could toward the door to Lance's bedroom without being too indiscreet, wondering what could possibly be taking Rogue so long. All she had to do was somehow seduce an apparently quite faithful Lance into going out with her and allow Scott an opportunity to smoothly slide in and play hero to a shattered Jean! What the hell was so hard about that? He muttered some rather unflattering comments under his breath, before leaning further toward the door and trying to eavesdrop on their conversation. Seated across from him, a flour-covered Tabitha raised a plate of badly-burnt pastries, and chirped brightly, "More cookies, Shades?" 

"So, um...Nirvana! That's a, um, that's a great grunge band," Scott, absently reaching over and taking a rock-hard cookie from a preening Tabitha, could hear Rogue stammer out awkwardly.   
"Yup. Nothing defines Seattle grunge better than Nirvana," Lance remarked, as Scott made faces at the sound of his rival's voice.   
"Yeah. And, um, that _Jeremy_ video was really touching," Rogue went on, sounding as stupid as she probably felt.   
"Uh...that was Pearl Jam," Lance corrected her, and Scott could almost imagine her blush. Well, if the blush could be seen underneath all the layers of pale makeup. Now that he thought back to it, had he _ever_ seen Rogue's natural skin color? He didn't really think so...   
"Come on! I know they don't look Mrs. Field's material, but trust me, they're delish!" Tabitha's voice, advertising her homemade cookies, brought his mind back to the situation at hand. 

"Right, right, Pearl Jam." Inside the room, Rogue instantly corrected herself, rather flustered. "I, uh, heard that their frontman, um, what was his name again? Oh, yeah, Eddie Van Halen, um, I heard that he recently died of a drug overdose."   
"That was Alice In Chains, their frontman was called Layne Stanley, Pearl Jam's lead singer is Eddie Vedder, and Eddie Van Halen is Van Halen's guitarist," Lance corrected her, sounding more amused than anything else.   
"Um, right!" _God, that was so incredibly stupid! _Rogue internally cringed, as she wondered how she could _possibly_ make an even bigger fool of herself in front of Lance than she already had. But, she thought bitterly, knowing her luck, she would more likely than not find a way.   
"Right," she muttered, choosing a relatively safe word. "So, um..."   
Just then, Lance suddenly caught sight of something.   
"Hey," he remarked appreciatively, "nice clunkers!" 

Outside the room, Scott, who had just taken a tentative sip of tea when he heard the particular comment, promptly and oh-so-suavely spat out his drink, nearly spraying Tabitha's carefully madeup face. The blonde Brotherhood bombshell, meanwhile, blinked dazedly under her near brush with Scott's saliva, before huffily pouting, "Oh, come on! It can't be _that_ bad!" Scott, however, was far too caught up in what was going on inside Lance's bedroom, to really care about what Tabitha was saying, as he leaned closer, tilting dangerously in his chair, to hear more of the conversation.   
"Thanks," came Rogue's shocking response, and Scott promptly spat out a second round of tea, at which Tabitha huffed and grumbled, "Okay, I think I'm going to go sit over there!"   
"No, really," Lance was saying. "I mean, they're so well-shaped and big, without being too clunky and everything."   
"Oh, well thank you," Rogue preened. "Can you believe I got them for only sixty dollars?"   
SPPFFFT!   
"Shades! Will you quit spraying my walls?" Tabitha whined.   
"No way." Lance whistled in amazement, and, as Scott was moaning to himself about how Rogue had soiled her body and the feminine race by getting well-shaped, big without being too clunky, sixty-dollar breast implants, the dark-haired Brotherhood bad boy added, "You know, I'm not sure whether Jean's into this sort of stuff, but she might like it."   
"Oh, trust me, she'll love them," Rogue assured him. "I mean, they just feel so comfortable...Plus, they're really smooth, too."   
"They sure look smooth," Lance commented.   
"They are," Rogue said firmly. And then, suddenly, she added, "Here, you want to feel them?"   
SPPFFFT!   
"God, you would think that living in a rich bald man's mansion would have taught you some manners," Tabitha griped. But Scott had other things to worry about. From inside the room, he could distinctively hear Lance marveling, "Wow, they really _are_ smooth..." 

That was it. He could take it no longer. With disturbing mental images of Lance groping all over Rogue dancing in his head, Scott leapt up promptly (without spitting out any more of Tabitha's special tea, one might add) after tilting over too far in his chair and falling rather unceremoniously on his face, and burst into the room.   
"All right, this is enough!" Scott complained. "I asked Rogue to come over here to discuss some mutual interests with you, not to prostitute her body and allow you to grope her and...and...and..."   
A surprised-looking Lance, and a surprised and somewhat pissed-looking Rogue, stared up at him, both with mouths open. Lance was holding one of Rogue's shiny, clunky black boots in his hands, as Scott suddenly realized what had truly been going on, and began to wish for a crack large enough for him to sink through.   
"Oh, um...oops?" 

* * *

"Nice going, Summers," Rogue hissed, as the two of them prepared to exit the Brotherhood's humble abode. "You kept on telling me to get closer to Lance, and just when we were starting to feel comfortable talking with each other, you had to burst in and accuse him of groping me!"   
"Hey, it wasn't my fault!" Scott defended himself. "I mean, it really did sound much more suggestive, and I was just trying to defend your honor!"   
"My hero," Rogue drawled sarcastically. 

Just then, Lance, wearing an old, tight-fitting black T-shirt over his ripped blue jeans, came jogging down the stairs. Heading toward his Jeep, the tall, dark, and handsome senior called out to Tabitha, "Bye, Tabby. I'm going to the gym to work out!"   
Rogue suddenly froze, as she remembered Tabitha's story of how Lance always ripped off his shirt before going to the showers after he worked out. Meanwhile, Lance was already disappearing out the door, and getting into the Jeep to start up the engine. 

* * *

**Five Minutes Later...**

"Rogue! Come back here, you over-madeup car thief!" Scott hollered, chasing after his prized convertible...which Rogue had hijacked to apparently chase after Lance in his Jeep heading to the gym, for some reason which Scott would never figure out. 


	5. You Give Obsession A Bad Name

*Okay, I got bored of the whole Kitty and Jubilee sit around at kitchen discussing about hot guys, while Pietro tortures Evan with radio dedications routine, so I decided to tweak around with that. Well, also because I've started to run out of songs that Pietro could possibly use to thoroughly and utterly humiliate Evan over the radio. Any suggestions, people? -_- 

* * *

It was like a scene right out of a teenybopper movie. Two pretty girls, dressed in the latest styles, cruising around a modern-looking avenue in a car that normal teenagers couldn't even dream of affording, radio cranked up to blast 'NSYNC's _Bye Bye Bye_ as loud as possible. Jubilation Lee let out a cheer, as she and Kitty Pryde continued to zip down the avenue, terribly over the speed limit, their hair blowing madly in the wind.   
"Woo hoo! This is so much fun!" the pretty Chinese girl remarked, shouting to be heard above both the wind and 'NSYNC. Kitty, looking rather sharp in a pair of pink tinted shades, nodded enthusiastically, before questioning, "I don't know why we didn't think of this earlier. I mean, hijacking Scott's convertible has _got_ to be the best idea we've come up with in ages!"   
"No kidding." Jubilation nodded in agreement, before pumping her fist in the air. "Yeah!" 

Just then, the dismaying sound of police sirens broke into _Bye Bye Bye's_ self-titled chorus. At first, the two girls ignored it, assuming it must be for someone else, but one uneasy glance around pointed out that theirs was one of the very few cars on the avenue, and out of those very few cars, they were the only ones going over the speed limit. By over twenty miles per hour, one might add.   
"Uh oh," Kitty muttered, as she automatically started slowing down. Switching off the radio and turning to Jubilation, the pretty freshman hissed, "Quick, switch seats with me!"   
Jubilation looked dumbfounded.   
"What--No! I'm not switching seats and taking the blame!" she retorted, looking rather offended. Kitty wore a panicked look on her face.   
"But you don't understand," she fretted, "I don't have my driver's permit with me!"   
Jubilation was aghast.   
"Well, don't look at me," she snapped, adding, "I flat out don't even _have_ a driver's permit, period!"   
Kitty looked like she wanted to break down and cry.   
"Oh, no," the fifteen-year-old X-girl moaned, as she obediently slowed down enough to pull over. "I'm gonna be grounded until I'm sixty-five!"   
Jubilation, meanwhile, was looking over her shoulder--specifically, at the police cruiser that had also slowed down and coasted to a stop, directly behind their hijacked convertible. As the door slowly opened, the pretty Asian recruit panicked, and, turning to Kitty, clutched desperately at the only solution she deemed possible.   
"Quick," she hissed, "show him your boobs!"   
Kitty's jaw dropped, as, insulted, she cried out, "What--What the...I am _not_ going to show him my boobs just to get out of a ticket!"   
Meanwhile, a tall police officer started getting out of the cruiser, wearing one of the sternest expressions either girl had ever seen.   
"Look, you totally suck at flirting, so that's out of the window, and unless you can think of a better solution, flash him already!" Jubilation snapped. Kitty huffed, offended.   
"Well--What the--I'll have you know...Why don't _you_ flash him?!" she finally stammered out. Jubilation scowled, before retorting, "Because _I_ came up with the idea, duh!"   
"Well, _I_ have my dignity to think about here!" Kitty shot back. Turning pink, she added in a tinier voice, "Besides...my boobs aren't that big."   
"Well...neither are mine," Jubilation finally admitted. Sighing, she wondered, "Argh! Where are Jean and Rogue when you need them?"   
Meanwhile, back on the road, the officer was slowly approaching their car. Turning frantically to Kitty, Jubilation commanded, "Here, show him your boobs already!"   
"No, I'm not!" Kitty shot back. "I already told you that they're not that big, anyway!"   
In response, Jubilation snapped open the glove compartment, and started sifting through all the junk stored inside.   
"Here, if you will put this into your bra..." she started to suggest. Kitty annoyedly batted her friend's hand away from the glove compartment.   
"Will you knock it off?!" she hissed. "I am _not_ going to stuff some balled-up comic of Lance with devil horns about to get crushed by Scott riding a robotic elephant down my shirt!"   
Jubilation, meanwhile, stopped tossing junk away from the glove compartment, long enough to glance over her shoulder and panic, "He's almost here!" Kitty drew in her breath sharply, before groaning.   
"Oh, what the hell..." she muttered under her breath. Turning to Jubilation, the chestnut-haired freshman ordered, "Give me that flashlight!" 

By then, the police officer had finally arrived at the (hijacked) red convertible.   
"Do you know at what speed you were going, ma'am...?" he started to say, but broke off suddenly when the driver of the car stopped fidgeting around with her shirt, and turned around to face him.   
"Yes?" Kitty put on what she hoped was a sultry smile, having no idea that she instead looked like a sixth grader who'd just had braces put in, as she indiscreetly wrapped her arms underneath her padded bust and practically shoved them right up to the poor officer's face.   
"Did I do something wrong...officer?" she added, making an attempt at a seductive little pout. The officer, meanwhile, couldn't help but stare in horrified fascination at the young girl's breasts, taking notice of how one protruded sharply out from underneath the thin material of her shirt, while the other stood out in crinkly little lumps.   
"Um...Ahem!" Red-faced, the officer ducked his head, clearing his throat numerous times until he'd completely run out of saliva. Forgetting what he had initially planned to say, the officer instead mumbled out in a quick rush of words, "Normally, I'd give you a ticket for being thirty miles per hour over the speed limit...but since it's so obvious that you desperately need all the money you can get for, um, reparative surgery, I'll just let you off with a warning." And the poor man scrambled the hell away as fast as he possibly could. 

As soon as the cruiser had screeched the hell out of the place, Kitty quickly reached down her shirt and pulled out a flashlight and a crumpled-up road map.   
"Ugh, next time, _you'd _better be the one who's putting things into her bra!" she complained to Jubilation, who meekly nodded. As the car pulled away from the curb and Jubilation switched the radio back on, in time to catch the ending of some new Britney Spears song, Kitty moaned, "Oh, my God, that was so incredibly humiliating!"   
Just then, the song ended, the DJ announced, "And now, we have the newest dedication from Pietro to Evan!", and Kitty immediately brightened up, chirping, "Huh, I don't even _need_ to know which song it is, I'm feeling a lot better already!"   
Meanwhile, somewhere in the distance, one could swear they heard a shrill, furious screech of, "PIETROOOOO!!!" 

* * *

"Ouch! Will you quit trying to shove that thing into my ear!" Rogue grumbled, turning away sharply from a determined-looking Scott. The fearless leader of the X-Men responded by grumbling, "Look, if it worked in _Ally McBeal,_ there is no freakin' way it can't work in real life!"   
"Oh, right, like it really is possible for a size-zero lawyer to date Jon Bon Jovi as a plumber and raise a ten-year-old daughter who mysteriously appears on her porch out of the blue, and..." Rogue started to roll her eyes, when suddenly, a particular thought crossed her mind. "Hey! Since when the hell did the macho leader of the mighty X-Men watch _Ally frickin' McBeal?"_   
Scott blushed, and ducked his head, pretending to be fascinated by the shadowy asphalt in front of his shoes. Finally, after a good five minutes of fidgeting and stalling, the tall, dark-haired senior finally admitted, "I thought it would help me get closer to Jean...Apparently, it didn't, because all it did was give Jean an opportunity to silently compare my looks to those of an eighties heartthrob's!"   
Rogue rolled her eyes.   
"Well, duh!" she admonished him. "Hey...is that why you're trying to grow your hair out? So you can style it like Jon Bon Jovi's? Because if it is, then let me tell you, Jean's celebrity crush isn't Jon Bon Jovi, it's Mark McGrath...no, wait, that's Kitty! Oh, yeah! Jean likes Johnny Rzeznik! No, wait, that's Rahne! Or was that Amara? Okay, I know Tabitha's in love with a young Axl Rose circa _Welcome To The Jungle_...or was that David Lee Roth circa _Jump?_ No, it's definitely Axl. And Jubilee likes Rob Thomas--or was that Gavin Rossdale? Oh, well, who cares, but anyway Jean's celebrity crush is..."   
"As I was saying!" Scott cut her off in a clipped tone. "You go into the Pizza Hut, and strike up a conversation with Lance, and then _discreetly_ steer the topic toward his relationship with Jean...or, specifically, whether it's true the two of them are--"   
"Scott Stapp!" Rogue suddenly burst out, a triumphant expression on her face as she snapped her fingers. Scott Summers, meanwhile, was so startled by her sudden trill, that had he not been securely fastened to his convertible, he would have surely fallen out.   
"What do you mean, Scott Stapp? Jean's not dating Scott Stapp, is she?" he demanded, rubbing his ear since the Southern-accented name had been shouted nearly directly into the side of his head.   
"No, no, of course not! Jean's celebrity crush isn't Jon Bon Jovi or Rob Thomas, it's the cutie from Creed, Scott Stapp," Rogue said.   
"Fine, fine, so she likes Stapp...What do you mean, the cutie from Creed?" Scott (Summers) arched an eyebrow, and Rogue ducked her head and blushed.   
"Kitty came up with that, not me, so don't go getting any ideas," she muttered sourly. Scott sighed.   
"Fine," he grumbled. "So Jean's celebrity crush is Scott Stapp and not Jon Bon Jovi, and I've just wasted about five hundred dollars' worth of hair gel and mousse."   
"Hey, I'll be more than happy to take those off your hands if you don't want them," Rogue offered.   
"Anyway," Scott interrupted sharply, trying to steer the topic back into the mission at hand, "you'll be wearing this...this, um, transmitter thingie when you're talking to Lance, so that I can hear what he's saying, and in case you're at a loss at what to say, I can help you."   
Rogue rolled her eyes in a _Well, he's crazy_ fashion toward Scott, but grudgingly accepted the device and slipped the tiny transmitter into her ear.   
"Fine, fine," she grumbled, as she reluctantly got out of the car and started heading toward the brightly-lit Pizza Hut.   
"And don't forget to talk about Jean!" Scott called out after Rogue as she trekked across the nearly deserted parking lot.   
"Right, whatever," Rogue muttered back.   
"And try to hide that transmitter from view!" Scott added.   
"Sure," Rogue called back in a surly tone.   
"And don't just talk about his workout routine!" Scott ordered, mentioning the most important detail.   
"Party pooper," Rogue muttered under her breath.   
"What's that?" Scott wanted to know.   
"I mean, yeah, I won't just talk about his workout routine!" Rogue snapped.   
"Good." Scott leaned back, satisfied that everything was going to go according to plan. 

* * *

A good two hours had passed, and Rogue was still inside the restaurant. Scott, meanwhile, had gotten out of his car, and was now working diligently on pacing a hole into the cement parking lot. What the hell could be taking her so long, anyway? He had no way of knowing what exactly Lance and Rogue were talking about inside the Pizza Hut, since, at first chance she got, Rogue had taken the transmitter device out of her ear and plunked it into the nearest soda glass, so all Scott had managed to glean from their conversation was a brief greeting (Lance didn't mention any clunkers this time, he noted), before there was the sound of electrical wires frizzing out, and all he heard afterwards was a hollow ringing that lasted for a good fifteen minutes. Scott continued to pace back and forth impatiently. Surely Rogue knew how important this was to him, he fretted. After all, he'd managed to find out that Lance had cranked up Bon Jovi's _You Give Love A Bad Name _when he'd passed by the Brotherhood leader's Jeep while on the way home from school. That _must_ be a sure signal that Lance was breaking up with Jean, and Rogue knew how crucial it was for her to confirm this information! 

Either way, he could wait no longer. Scott stopped working on digging a hole into the asphalt, and decided that, while it might blow his cover, he had no other choice but to go into the Pizza Hut and find out just exactly what Lance and Rogue were talking about that was important enough to stretch past the two hour mark. As he got out of his convertible and started heading across the parking lot and toward the restaurant, Scott heard a distinct hissing noise. The leader of the X-Men paused abruptly, and listened. The hissing echoed again, but this time, louder and most certainly closer. His jaw tightened grimly, as he glanced around at his surroundings.   
"Is anybody there?" Scott called out bravely. 

* * *

Inside the Pizza Hut, meanwhile, Lance and Rogue were engaged in a rather intellectual conversation about who could kick who's ass, Axl or Slash, when Rogue looked at her watch--or rather, she reached over, took Lance's arm, and glanced at his watch--and freaked out.   
"Oh, no!" she grumbled. "I've been here two hours! He's gonna kill me!"   
"Who's gonna kill you?" Lance asked pleasantly, and at that moment Rogue realized how glad she was that he wasn't the mind-reading half of the Lance-Jean couple, before mumbling out a lame excuse of, "Um, Wolverine. I'm supposed to go on a, um, late-night training session with him."   
"Oh." Lance, thankfully, seemed convinced--or at the very least, he'd deemed it unnecessary to further probe into the matter. "Well, then, I guess I shouldn't be keeping you any longer. Need a ride?"   
"No, thanks. I've already got a ride," Rogue said, and quickly exited their table, mumbling under her breath, "If he doesn't kill me first, at least." 

Exiting the Pizza Hut, Rogue was promptly greeted by a gust of refreshingly cool night wind, and she shivered slightly and tightened her coat around her. Glancing around and squinting slightly at the dimly-lit parking lot, she searched out the telltale red flash that signaled Scott's convertible...before suddenly hearing what sounded like a high-pitched girly squeal. Rogue frowned, and turned around toward the source of the noise...and stared. And stared. And stared. And stared. And wondered whether her mind was playing tricks on her, or whether that was really Scott being chased around by a rabid...squirrel.   
"Scott? Is that you?" Rogue called out uneasily, not sure whether she should really believe what her eyes were telling her--that the brave, manly, absolutely fearless leader of the mighty X-Men was running like a 1950's housewife who had just seen a mouse from a rabid chipmunk. Or muskrat. Or squirrel. Or...whatever!   
"Scott? Is that you?" Rogue repeated again, in case Scott, too occupied in his escape from a rabid gopher, hadn't heard her the first time.   
"The squirrels are evil!" came the prompt, wailed out response, and Rogue rolled her eyes. Bending down and picking up the nearest pebble she could find, the gothic beauty waited for an opportunity, before chucking the stone at the rat thing that was chasing after Scott at the first chance she got.   
"Shoo! Go away," the green-clad X-girl hissed, and the rabid rodent obediently scampered off, leaving a panting Scott struggling to regain his breath...not to mention his dignity.   
"I, um, I was...I was...um, I was just, um, rehearsing for a, um...Fifty bucks says we never talk of this again," Scott finally stammered out. Rogue smirked, before holding out her gloved hand.   
"One hundred bucks, and you've got a deal," she bargained, as Scott glowered at her and muttered all sorts of unflattering things, before giving in and digging into his wallet, producing five twenties which his Southern friend gladly accepted.   
"You're evil too, you know that?" he muttered, as he got into the convertible.   
"Why, thank you kindly, good sir," Rogue drawled in that maddening tone of hers. Scott scowled, and grumbled some more unflattering things, as he pulled out of his parking space. 

"So," the leader of the X-Men began, once they were safely away from the Pizza Hut and its army of rabid squirrels, "what did you find out about the whole _You Give Love A Bad Name_ thing?"   
"Basically...that Lance secretly loves eighties hair bands, like Tabitha said, and simply owns a copy of Bon Jovi's _Slippery When Wet _album," Rogue replied, to which Scott groaned and muttered, "You mean I got chased around by a rabid squirrel for nothing?"   
"Well...not quite," Rogue spoke up hesitantly, as they approached a red light. Scott braked sharply, and turned to her with an eager look on his face.   
"What do you mean?" he wanted to know.   
"Well...it turns out that Lance is planning to take Jean out on a romantic cruise Friday night, but I'm not exactly sure how that's going to help you break them up," Rogue replied uncertainly. Scott looked crushed for a moment...and then, that familiar, manic grin began to seep through.   
"Well, then," he said, to a now positively wary Rogue, "we're just going to have to play chaperones, now won't we?" 


	6. I...Wanna Rock & Roll...All Night!

Kitty and Jubilation were seated around the Xavier Institute's roomy kitchen, helping themselves to an after-dinner snack while they crammed for next day's history test. Jubilation passed a platter of chocolate-and-almond-toffee cookies, shouting to be heard above the Ricky Martin song blaring full-force on the radio, "Cookie?" Kitty reached over, and snatched two off of the crystal cookie plate.   
"Don't mind if I do," the slender, pretty freshman replied cheerfully, biting into the crunchy dessert. Stopping to brush a few crumbs of toffee-and-chocolate off of her history notebook, the chestnut-haired X-girl wondered out loud, "Do you know where Scott and Rogue are?" Jubilation shrugged her slim shoulders, as she helped herself to a cookie.   
"No idea," came the prompt response, before the Chinese girl added, "I think Tabitha had plans to take Rogue along on her Drool Over Lance Working Out At The Gym Mission, but party pooper Scott came along and hauled Rogue off somewhere to stalk Jean, so Tabitha decided to ask Amara instead."   
"Really?" Kitty's eyebrows raised several inches upon hearing that, as she stopped cramming--or at least munching on cookies and singing along to _Livin' La Vida Loca_ while half-heartedly trying to memorize Civil War dates. "I didn't think Amara would be the type to be interested in that sort of thing."   
"Hey, she might be some princess and all that, but that doesn't mean she doesn't know a hot guy when she sees one," Jubilation pointed out reasonably. After a pause, she added, "That, and I never said whether or not Amara agreed to go along."   
"Well, you've got a good point there," Kitty murmured. "Gee, I wonder what Scott has planned for Unsuccessful Mission No. 249 to break up Lance and Jean."   
"All I know is, he dragged Rogue off to the dock to chase after the happy couple on their romantic evening cruise," Jubilation spoke up. Kitty arched her eyebrows again.   
"Really? Huh, I hope he knows that the cruise has been sold out for quite a while now, and getting on it is pretty much a hopeless cause--" she started to say. 

Just then, a furious Evan stormed into the kitchen, looking like he wanted to murder someone. Kitty and Jubilation didn't have to guess to twice to know that the particular someone bore the name of Pietro Maximoff, as Evan stomped around, and snarled, "Argh! I'm going to kill Maximoff!" while throttling the air around him as if pretending it was said snide silver-haired youth's neck. Kitty rolled her eyes, as Jubilation sighed tiredly, before asking, "So what did the charming Mr. Maximoff do now?"   
"You know Roxanne Delacroix? The girl I've been planning to ask out to the school dance next Friday?" Evan demanded. Kitty smiled in recognition, as she nodded and chirped, "Oh, yeah, I know Roxanne. Really pretty, really nice. You'll get a long perfectly with her. Why?"   
Evan balled his hands into fists, as he seethed, "Well, it just so happens that Pietro pretty much ruined my chances with Roxanne by dedicating the song _Bitch_ to her in my name!"   
At this, Kitty and Jubilation tried to look sympathetic, but it wasn't long before the two had turned blue from trying desperately to hold their giggles in, and burst out laughing.   
"Oh, gee, thanks a lot!" Evan huffed, and prepared to stomp out of the kitchen.   
"Aw, c'mon, Ev! We didn't mean to laugh at your pathetic little feud that you're losing against Pietro," Kitty coaxed.   
"Yeah, don't be so bitchy about these things," Jubilation cracked, and the two promptly started giggling again at her bad pun. Evan growled, as he shook a fist threateningly in the air and vowed, "One of these days, I'm gonna get back at that Pietro!" 

* * *

Meanwhile, back at the radio station, Pietro obediently handed over a suitcase full of cash to the DJ.   
"Here we are," the platinum-haired teen boasted confidently. "The second half of the payment for the _Bitch_ dedication, as promised."   
"Great." The DJ took his payment, and then ventured questioningly, "What? You're not going to mix up my name this time?"   
Pietro blinked innocently, as he demanded to know, "Why on Earth would I do such a silly thing? I know what your name is, dear sir."   
The DJ sighed in relief.   
"Finally!" he cheered. "You know, it's about time you learned my name right, and--"   
"It's Bambinii, isn't it?" Pietro guessed cluelessly. The DJ stopped ranting, and his shoulders slumped as he sighed, "Never mind! I should have known this time." Meanwhile, Pietro was blinking in confusion, and asking, "What? You mean it's not Bambinii? Because I swear, you look like a Bambinii..." 

* * *

It was a scene right out of a romance novel. Soft, pale moonlight shining on smooth, glassy waters, sparkling stars that shone like diamonds set against the dark velvet that was the night sky, soft twilight breezes whispering across the shores, and a sleek, white cruise ship sitting patiently at dock while hundreds and thousands of well-dressed youths boarded at a steady pace. 

Meanwhile, cue over to the road, where a flashy little red convertible was zipping down at a mad speed to get to the cruise on time. Seated inside, Rogue clutched the edges of her seat until her knuckles turned white, holding on for dear life as Scott shamelessly broke the 45 mph speed limit by going at what felt like more than double the allotted speed.   
"Scott, you know you can slow down by at least fifteen miles per hour!" Rogue shouted, yelling to be heard over the whistle of wind. "There's still half an hour left before the ship leaves the harbor!"   
"Must get there...find Jean...hate Lance's guts...shades about to fly off..." Scott muttered instead, reaching up to steady his ruby-quartz glasses before the flew off and made him blast a pothole into the road. 

Finally (and, for Rogue, blessedly), the convertible arrived at the harbor, just in time to see the captain of the ship standing by to greet the guests coming on board. Slamming his foot down on the brakes and screeching to a halt, Scott quickly leapt out of his car and dashed down the wooden dock toward the ship, leaving a queasy-looking Rogue to dazedly stumble and totter her way about. When Rogue had finally caught up to Scott, she found him arguing heatedly with the captain, and sighed, wondering what could possibly be the matter now.   
"But you don't understand!" Scott was saying. "I'm not here to enjoy some stupid romantic cruise with a girlfriend, I'm here to keep an eye on my future girlfriend, who's here with this idiotic pretty boy!"   
The captain, meanwhile, was shaking his head, emphasizing firmly what he had previously told Scott.   
"I'm sorry, young sir, but if you don't have a ticket, we can't let you in," he spoke, softly but sternly. Scott looked like he didn't know whether to slap his own forehead--or to slap the captain--but finally, he gave in, and started reaching reluctantly into his back pocket.   
"All right, fine," he grumbled. "How much for two tickets?"   
"Two hundred dollars apiece," came the prompt response, and Scott's eyebrows nearly flew off his forehead.   
"Two hundred dollars--that's crazy!" he screeched, and several couples boarding the ship turned to gawk at him. Scott, meanwhile, wasn't paying any attention, as he continued to argue with the captain.   
"I'm sorry, but that's the way it is," the captain was saying. "I don't make the prices. Now, the ticket booth's that way if you still want to come onboard, if not, go away and stop pestering myself and my guests."   
Scott growled something incomprehensible under his breath, then muttered, "Fine! I'm going to the ticket booth!" and stomped off. Rogue hurried to chase after him. 

Scott stormed over to the ticket booth, and started to growl, "Two tickets please...do you take Discovery?" Just then, the freckled, redheaded teen behind the booth began to roll down a metal sheet over the ticket window.   
"Sorry, hon, we're closed," she called out, seeming more fascinated in her chewing gum than in the look of despair that suddenly adorned Scott's face.   
"No! I have to get into that stupid ship and stalk--um, I mean, casually observe--my future wife--um, I mean, future girlfriend!" he hollered. The redheaded girl shrugged, before snapping her gum and shrugging carelessly.   
"Do your stalking somewhere else, we're sold out," she replied. "Tough luck, kid."   
Scott looked like he wanted to tear his hair out.   
"Well, uh, guess we won't get to stalk Lance and Jean tonight, what a shame..." Rogue began to say, immensely relieved. Scott, however (not to mention unfortunately!), wasn't ready to give up that easily.   
"Come on," he muttered, and started to storm back to the ship. 

"Hello, and welcome to the St. Mary, thank you for traveling with us, and please enjoy your cruise..." the captain was happily greeting his guests, when he recognized a familiar pair of ruby-quartz shades, and turned around to face Scott.   
"Got your tickets?" he wanted to know.   
"You're all sold out!" Scott grumbled in response. At this, the captain could only shrug helplessly.   
"Tough luck, kid," he sympathized, echoing the ticket girl's words. "Try again next year."   
"But you don't understand," Scott started to argue. "My future bride--um, I mean, girlfriend--is here on this cruise with some American Badass wannabe, and I need to stalk them--um, that is, casually observe them--tonight, or else...!" 

Just then, a bunch of people dressed up like gangsters made their way over to the ship. The man in the lead, a short, stout guy with a backwards red baseball cap, swaggered over to the captain and shrilled out, "Yo, waddap Homie G, dis be dat gig we're playing, right?"   
"Huh?" Scott looked dumbfounded, as the captain forced a smile on his face before murmuring, "Right this way, Mr. Durst," and leading the group toward the ship entrance.   
"Hey!" Scott hollered indignantly. "How come you let a bunch of men who scream obscenities into the mike walk in for free, while a good, noble, tax-paying-as-soon-as-he's-eligible citizen like myself has to buy two-hundred-dollars-apiece tickets that have already been sold out!"   
The captain shrugged.   
"What can I say," he muttered. "The guy's a rock star. Those type of people expect to get special treatment."   
"Hey yo!"   
The indignant screech caught the captain's attention, who turned around and found Fred Durst unable to get into the ship, due to his being lodged at the entrance way from the twenty layers of gangsta clothing he was wearing.   
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go and help push Mr. Durst into our ship," the captain muttered, and scurried off, leaving Scott staring in bemusement (not to mention, amusement) at the rather comical sight of the men trying to push a lodged Fred Durst into the ship. Rogue, meanwhile, gave a sigh, before attempting to tug Scott away and toward his car.   
"Come on, Scott, let's just get out of here," the Southern belle muttered tiredly. Scott, however, refused to budge, as a lightbulb seemed to have gone out in his head.   
"So, rock stars get special treatment, huh...?" His voice trailed off. Rogue, meanwhile, was looking at the leader of the X-Men with wary eyes, as she tentatively ventured, "Um...Scott? Are you okay?"   
Scott turned to Rogue with that now dismayingly familiar manic grin on his face, as he murmured, "Rogue, it looks like I haven't wasted five hundred dollars on hair gel and mousse after all." 


	7. Rock & Roll, Part Two

*LONG CHAPTER ALERT! That's why it took me some time to update. Hah, I've got an excuse this time! Oh, and by the way, the rock star names Scott mentions are Axl Rose of Guns N' Roses and Eddie Van Halen of Van Halen, and Lita Ford and Joan Jett.* 

* * *

Jubilation and Evan looked up in alarm, as a furious Kitty stomped into the kitchen, flung off her jacket onto the floor, and shrilly proclaimed, "Pietro Maximoff is the biggest jerk in the whole wide world!"   
Evan was immediately interested, as he eagerly demanded, "Dude, what did Maximoff do to you?", at the same time that Jubilation raised an eyebrow and remarked, "Hey, I like your pants. Really patriotic what with the American flag painted on the back."   
Kitty looked down and smiled, preening, "Oh, thanks, they were just too cute to resist, and can you believe that they only cost me ten dollars?"   
Jubilation's mouth dropped, as she said enviously, "Really? No way! Gosh, I wish I had gone shopping with you on that day."   
Kitty shrugged.   
"It's really no big deal, more luck than anything else," she told her. "I mean, the store was having, like, a clearance sale or something, and they were trying to sell everything in storage to make room for the spring clothing line, so..." 

"Ahem! Can we please get back to Pietro being a big jerk and all that?" Evan, impatient at hearing all this "girl talk", tried to nudge Kitty back to the subject at hand.   
"Huh--What--Oh, yeah! I hate Pietro!" Kitty looked confused for a minute as she rearranged her thoughts, then angrily repeated her declaration.   
"What did he do to you?" Jubilation asked. Kitty was positively seething as she launched into an explanation.   
"Well, today in my American History evening study group, the teacher made us do the usual Pledge of Allegiance and all that," she began. "Anyway, it turns out they didn't have a flag, 'cause some drunken cheerleader had stolen it over the weekend to make a star-spangled thong bikini out of--Evan, quit drooling, this is serious!--so, anyway, the teacher was looking around, trying to find a replacement, when Pietro comes along, notices my American flag jeans, and calls out that the teacher can stop worrying about finding a flag to say the Pledge of Allegiance to, since everyone can just stare at my butt while they're pledging the allegiance!"   
"Oh, my God!" Jubilation exclaimed, as Evan fell off his chair in his hysterical laughing fit.   
"Man, wait till Kurt hears about this!" the delighted X-Man crowed, at the same time that Jubilation reached over to offer Kitty a sympathy hug while murmuring, "Aw, you poor thing."   
"Yeah, and the worst thing is, everyone _did_ stare at my butt while Mr. Hoffman led us in the Pledge of Allegiance!" Kitty moaned in humiliation. Turning to Evan, the determined freshman declared, "Daniels, consider yourself with a new ally in your feud against Pietro!"   
At this, Evan abruptly stopped laughing.   
"But--but--but--but I don't want a partner!" he whined. Kitty turned to him, guns a blazin', and Evan eeped and shrunk back, having no problem imagining the Shadowcat giving a fierce tigress growl.   
"Well, too bad!" the supposedly wholesome, pure, and perky freshman snarled. "From this day forth, we're going to find a way to beat the living crap out of Pietro!" 

* * *

Meanwhile, back at the harbor, the captain wearily got back to his original position of greeting the guests, after finally having succeeded in pushing a lodged-in Fred Durst into the ship. Just then, when he thought all the passengers had already boarded, a couple hurriedly made their way over, dressed in eighties-style leather with chains, flashy Spandex tops, and with hair that would have made Mötley Crüe quite proud. The captain's eyebrow twitched, as he wondered what the hell this strangely-clad duo could possibly want, before venturing warily, "Uh...can I help you?"   
The young man responded with a simple, "Yeah, let us into this ship."   
The captain shrugged, before consenting.   
"Uh...sure," he mumbled. "Just show me your tickets."   
At this, the young man's eyebrows nearly flew off his forehead, offended, as he demanded in a rather insolent tone, "Excuse you? Show our tickets? Old man, do you know who we are?"   
The captain began to grow impatient with his attitude.   
"No, I _don't_ know who you are," he gritted out in a clipped tone. "Now, either show me your tickets, or go away."   
_"We_ happen to be members of the most popular underground hard rock band of the decade," the young man sniffed. "I'm, um...I'm, er...Axl...Van Halen! Yeah, I'm Axl Van Halen, and this lovely lady here happens to be...um...Lita...Jett! Yeah, we're Axl Van Halen and Lita Jett!"   
"Ugh!" Apparently, "Lita" wasn't too pleased with something "Axl" had said, as the rather gothic in appearance girl hit her forehead with the heel of her hand as she let out a groan. The captain looked rather amused.   
"Well, it's very nice learning your names, Mr. Van Halen, but I'm afraid I can't give you any special treatment. It would be unfair to the paying customers," he apologized. At this, "Axl's" eyebrows flew up in indignation, as he sputtered, "But...but...but you let those punks from Limp Bizkit get in for free!"   
The captain shrugged.   
"Yeah, but at least they're established rock stars, and I'm afraid I haven't heard of your group, Mr. Van Halen," he pointed out. "Axl" huffed in irritation, before pushing "Lita" forward and snapping, "Well, once you hear her sing, you'll know we're an established rock group! You know, Lita here happened to be the princess of alternative rock before joining our band!"   
"All right, then. Let's hear Ms. Jett sing her lovely alternative songs." The captain took up his bluff, and leaned back with an expectant look on his face. "Axl" swallowed, but apparently decided that he had to keep his word, and pushed poor "Lita" to the forefront.   
"Um, okay, then, Joan, I mean, Rogue, I mean, Gwen, I mean, Lita, I mean,...no wait, you _are, _um Lita!" he mumbled. "Er...sing something alternative." 

Rogue, clad in more Spandex and leather than she would have liked and nearly blinded by her mousse-augmented hair, blinked dazedly as an equally hideously-costumed Scott pushed her toward the captain and babbled something about singing an alternative song. Alternative! What the hell...she didn't even _listen_ to alternative music! Rogue tee heed nervously, trying to buy some time, as she frantically ran a list of song titles that she knew, and searched for anything that might pass off as being alternative. Suddenly, she recalled something she had heard on the radio back in '99. Some group called Goo Goo something. She wasn't exactly sure what the exact lyrics were, but hey, all she had to do was sing a few lines, not cover the whole song, so how hard could it be? Opening her mouth, Rogue promptly intoned in a monotonous drone, "Baby's black balloon ate a fly."   
"Ugh!"   
This time, it was Scott's turn to smack his forehead and groan. 

The captain was more amused than anything else, as "Lita" repeated the line from alternative rockers The Goo Goo Doll's 1999 hit single, _Black Balloon,_ with a twist of her own. "Axl", meanwhile, was looking at him with a nervous expression on his face, as he coughed and struggled to make up some lame excuse to cover for "Lita's" slip up.   
"Erm...she sings backup in our really, really popular underground hard rock band," he finally stammered out. "But hey, I'm the lead singer, and I--"   
"Oh, really?" The captain was apparently having a merry time torturing the two "rock stars". "Why don't you sing something, then?"   
"Axl" looked like he wanted to pull a Homer Simpson and go "Doah!" at his own slip up, but recovered just in time.   
"Erm...okay," he mumbled. "I mean, I _am_ a rock star and all, what with being the explosively charismatic Diamond Dave, I mean Axl Rose, I mean, Axl Bon Jovi, I mean, Axl, um...wait, what was I again...Oh yeah! Um, I'm the explosively charismatic rock & roll frontman, Axl, um, Van Halen!"   
After clearing his throat for several minutes, "Axl" finally began to sing.   
"In the jungle/Welcome to the jungle/Watch it bring you to your knees, knees...!" he began to screech, in the patented Axl Rose banshee scream. 

**Five Minutes Later...**

"Thanks a lot, Scott!" a furious and humiliated Rogue hissed as she stomped over to the convertible parked by the harbor, yanking off her chain-studded leather jacket with a vengeance. "Not only did we get kicked out, but now we have to pay for all those glass windows you shattered!"   
"Hey, it's not my fault," Scott muttered, a few paces behind her. "Blame Axl Rose for singing in that banshee scream!"   
"Out of all the rock & roll songs available, you just _had_ to choose _Welcome To The Jungle,_ didn't ya?" Rogue snapped. "I mean, there are _so many_ other songs that don't require any banshee yells at all! What about Van Halen's _Jump?"_   
"Hey, hey, hey!" Scott muttered defensively. "So I goofed up. Big deal."   
Rogue sighed, and tucked a poofy strand of mousse'd hair behind her ear.   
"Oh, well," she muttered, as she headed for the car. "At least this is over."   
At this, Scott turned around sharply to give her a look.   
"What do you mean, at least this is over?" he wanted to know. A horrified expression came over Rogue's features.   
"Oh, no!" she groaned. "Scott, _please_ tell me that this is over, and you're gonna quit trying..."   
"On the contrary," Scott preened. "It has just begun!" 

* * *

The captain shook his head as he prepared to enter the ship, grateful to have gotten rid of those two still-stuck-in-the-eighties weirdoes. Just then, he saw another couple dashing to enter, and he squinted when he suddenly noticed something. It couldn't be! His eyes must be deceiving him! Or were the young man and woman _really_ dressed in what appeared to be a hastily rented tuxedo and wedding gown, respectively? The couple steadily approached, and the tuxedo-clad young man started waving frantically to catch the captain's attention. It _was_ true! They _were_ dressed like newlyweds who'd just gotten hitched off at some drunken drive-thru marriage in Las Vegas!   
"Wait, hold on!" the young man, who was wearing a pair of rather familiar red shades, called out breathlessly. The captain forced a smile on his face, telling himself that it was rude to stare with an incredulous, open-mouthed expression on his face, and instead greeted, "Ah, I see you're the last ones. Good thing, too, you've made it just on time." 

Stepping aside, the captain allowed entrance to the bride and groom, and, as the couple was about to board, recited dutifully, "Now, if you will just give me your tickets, I'll show you to your..."   
"Wait...wait a minute!" the young groom--who looked barely of legal drinking age, if that--spoke up suddenly, blinking rapidly at this request for tickets. "What do you mean, you want to see our tickets?"   
Now it was the captain's turn to blink in surprise, as he asked, "Well, you weren't expecting to get on without tickets, now where you?"   
"But...but...but we're newlyweds on our honeymoon!" the young man protested. "I mean, aren't you going to let us get on for free?"   
The captain let out a cheerful, hearty laugh.   
"Good heavens, no!" he spoke in amusement. "I'd be losing nearly half a grand if I did that! Now, young man, do you have tickets or not?"   
"But...but...but it worked in _Friends!"_ the ill-fitting tuxedo-clad groom protested indignantly, and the captain laughed again.   
"Well perhaps it did, but you also have to remember that this is the same show where they married off one of their main characters to a lesbian," he reminded the groom, then repeated patiently, "Now, do you have your tickets?"   
The groom muttered something unflattering under his breath--the captain distinctly caught the words "cheap bastard"--before grabbing the hand of his pale, rather gothic bride and muttering, "Come on Lita, I mean, Gwen, I mean, Rogue, I mean...wait, you _are_ Rogue!" His irritated--and perhaps, just a tad irate--bride grumbled, "Yes, I am Rogue, _Scott!_ Or would you prefer I called you Axl?", to which Scott blushed and muttered, "Let's just get out of here, _Rogue. _We don't have to stand around and be insulted by some old man who's probably reeking with scurvy!" And he grabbed her carefully gloved hand and stalked off. 

* * *

Rogue stalked off toward where the car was parked, viciously ripping off the bride's veil with a vengeance as she stormed down the pier.   
"Believe me when I say this, Summers--or would you prefer Van Halen?--but this is the last time I am allowing myself to get dragged along on one of your stalker trips!" she seethed, furious. Scott, meanwhile, scurried to catch up to her, apologizing, "Okay, okay. I'm sorry for making you wear tacky eighties clothing and a stolen wedding gown, and I _promise_ that after tonight, I won't bug you anymore about Lance and Jean..."   
Rogue's eyebrows flew up when she caught the "after tonight" comment, and zoomed in on it like a hunter moving in for the kill.   
"What do you mean, after tonight?" she demanded, instantly suspicious. "Believe it or not, Scott, but the cruise's sold out and about to leave the harbor in less than five minutes, and the captain won't let you in unless you've got a ticket!"   
"Maybe," Scott said, with that now familiar manic grin. "However, after the sob story I've concocted, there's no freakin' way he'll deny us entrance!"   
"Scott..." Rogue's voice began to trail off warily. 

* * *

The captain was ready to board the ship himself and commence the cruise, when he saw a now familiar pair of red shades hurrying along through the night. Groaning to himself, he wondered what that gutsy kid had come up with now, as, glancing hurriedly at his watch, he decided that he would give the kid one and a half minutes to try to weedle his way in, before having to board the ship and kick off the two-night-long romantic cruise. 

Scott, meanwhile, dressed in tatters and rags, pulled an even paler-than-usual-looking Rogue along on a wheelchair...or rather, he wheeled a nauseous-looking Rogue along at a speed that Pietro would have been quite proud of (or was that quite envious of?).   
"Wait!" Scott called out breathlessly. "You can't leave now, you have to let us in!"   
The captain stopped and turned around, and began to intone, "Listen kid, we have to leave now, so you've got one minute and--" he paused to look at his watch, "--ah, now you've got one minute and _fifteen_ seconds to cook up a tall tale and leave me the hell alone!"   
Scott paused to work on a suitably offended look.   
"Why, I don't possibly understand what do you mean by tall tale, I'll have you know, both myself and this lovely lady here are responsible, honest, hardworking--" he began to ramble.   
"Ten seconds," the captain broke in, eyes never leaving his watch. Scott hurriedly stopped, and began to rattle off breathlessly, "Well, you see, my sister here, she's really sick, she's got that cancer thingie, yeah, cancer of the blood, I mean, leukemia, I mean, she's really, really, sick, her hair's practically fallen out and she's forced to wear a wig--!"   
"Scott!" Rogue twisted around in the wheelchair Scott had stolen from some poor hospital patient getting some fresh air, and slapped the living daylights out of him.   
"Ouch!" Scott paused to complain, before going on again. "And she's about to die in, um, six weeks, and she really wanted to see the band slated to perform all the romantic songs on this cruise tonight, and she's a huge, loyal, devoted fan, and she's never gotten to see them in concert before, and she thinks that they're just so beautiful and romantic, and, oh, for God's sake, aren't you going to grant a poor dying woman her one last wish?!"   
The captain blinked, startled.   
"Your terminally ill sister's dying wish is to hear _Limp Bizkit_ perform, because she thinks they're beautiful and romantic?" he wanted to know. Scott shrugged, and made a _Women--Who-Knows-What-They're-Thinking?_ expression, before rattling off, "Well, you know, she has a very romantic soul, and she greatly appreciates the artists' inner and outer beauty, and she thinks they're just the most beautiful, soulful, romantic--What the _hell_ do you mean, _Limp Bizkit's_ performing tonight?"   
Scott finally seemed to have understood what the captain was saying, as, digging around in his pockets, he pulled out a tattered flyer and whined, "Your people clearly advertised that Creed and The Goo Goo Dolls were slated to perform on this cruise!"   
The captain shrugged.   
"Well, yeah, originally, we _did_ have Creed and Goo Goo Dolls...but as soon as they found out they'd be sharing the stage with Limp Bizkit and Fred Durst, they promptly split, damn them!" the captain grumbled.   
"Well, that's just fine, because my sister happens to prefer angry over- tattooed men screaming obscenities into the mike over handsome and romantic men singing passionately, so hah!" Scott huffed, wincing as he realized how ridiculous that came out. The captain threw up his hands, and gave an irritated sigh, as he grumbled, "Look, kid, you've been trying forever to get into this cruise, and I must admit you've come up with some rather...creative and original ways! Now, I don't approve of this, and I don't know where the hell my brain's at for letting me do this, but I admire your guts, so get in before I grow a spine and change my mind!"   
"All right!" Scott pumped his fist into the air, before quickly jerking his "terminally ill with leukemia sister" Rogue out of her wheelchair.   
"And it's a miracle. The deathly sick little sister walks," the captain muttered sarcastically, as he boarded after the couple and prepared to kick off the now slightly-delayed cruise. Meanwhile, Scott could be heard distinctly saying something about how now he could freely stalk--erm, that is, casually observe--Lance and Jean without having to wear a silly tuxedo, while Rogue muttered something about how at least this way she wouldn't have to worry about her mousse'd, eighties-style hair taking out one of her eyes. 


	8. Sweet...Um, Somethin' (-_-??? x_x) O' Mi...

Safe. It wasn't a word commonly used in the humble Brotherhood abode, what with Lance's occasional mini-earthquakes, Toad's piles of slime stuck everywhere, just _waiting_ to trip someone, Tabitha's little cherry bombs, and God only knew what else. However, at the moment, inside the kitchen, Pietro felt...safe. Probably because, after an exhausting six weeks, he and Lance had finally succeeded in Blob-proofing the entire kitchen. By Blob-proofing, the two oldest members of the Brotherhood meant making that room and that room alone so sturdy, so safe, that not even the unmovable Blob could crash through it and enter. After all, they could only afford to feed him so often, before racking up a grocery bill that would take even the Mighty Chrome Dome in the Sky, a.k.a. Xavier, a couple millenia to pay off. 

And when a furious Evan had spiked his way through the flimsy wooden door of the crumbling Victorian the Brotherhood members were forced to call home, Pietro, who'd been on the phone with that nice DJ--what was his name again? Umberto? Chimichanga?--arranging humiliating song dedications for the next week, decided to do the smartest thing possible. Now, since Pie-Pie is such a smart little boy, he knew that the smartest thing possible to do at the moment was to, frankly, split! Get the hell out! Go somewhere safe! And the safest place was, of course, the newly Blob-proofed kitchen that he and Lance had worked so hard on for the past six weeks. 

Now, Evan had screeched to a halt in front of the Blob-proofed kitchen, slamming his shoulders against the door and shooting off half a dozen spikes of different shapes and sizes. Pietro smirked in satisfaction, when he saw that all of Evan's weight combined could hardly make a dent on the Blob-proofed door, and all of Evan's spikes combined barely scratched the titanium walls.   
"Hah! I got you beat, Daniels, you can't get in! Youcan'tgetinyoucan'tgetinyoucan'tgetin!" Pietro gloated, and, in the privacy of his very safe Blob-proofed kitchen, proceeded to do a little victory dance. Just then, a dismayingly familiar, high-pitched feminine voice spoke up.   
"Like, don't be so sure, you big jerk!"   
Pietro froze amidst his newly-dubbed Maximoff Wiggle, as Kitty, holding Evan's arm, phased the both of them through the supposedly impregnable fortress that was the Brotherhood's Blob-proofed kitchen. Now, remember that Pie-Pie is, after all, a very smart boy, so he reacted in the smartest way possible.   
"AAAIIIIIIIIEEEEE!!!" 

Of course, this high-pitched, disturbingly girlie squeal caught the attention of the remaining members of the Brotherhood, who came in just in time to witness a melee that had broken out amidst all the messy piles of jelly-filled doughnuts and half-eaten pizzas. How did they get in, you ask, since, after all, the kitchen _had_ been Blob-proofed. Well, let's just say that Lance and Pietro forgot to take into account the only female member of the Brotherhood, and her ability to create homemade bombs within a fraction of a second. So, anyway, the three remaining members of said Brotherhood watched in immense amusement, as Pietro got his ass handed to him on a silver platter by Evan, and, every now and then, Kitty, before Todd and Fred decided that now was the perfect time to practice their color-commentating skills.   
"And the Quicksilver ducks a punch by the Porcupine, a.k.a. Spyke!" Todd intoned gleefully, trying to make his voice sound as grown up as possible.   
"Yes, but here comes Shadowcat, and ouch, that slap must have hurt!" Fred joined in, for once enunciating all his words.   
"You said it, and Quicksilver's now caught in between two _very_ pissed foes!"   
"No, no, wait! Quicksilver manages to zip out of the circle, and has now blinded Shadowcat with a jelly doughnut to the face and tripped Spyke with a soda can!"   
"And judging by that smirk on his face, he's got plans to extract his revenge on Spyke!"   
"That's right! Watch him strike that superheroic pose! Spyke is now YOUR man-in-peril! Quicksilver is trying to bodyslam Spyke like the great superhero that he is!"   
"Yes, but apparently, the Spyke-Man must have kryptonite up his ass, because the Quicksilver can't move an inch!"   
"Ah, I see all those Gut Bomb Burgers with the Mighty Blue One have finally paid off for the Porcupine!"   
"Plus, that's what Quicksilver gets for having such a high metabolism and weighing only eighty-nine pounds!"   
"Good point, my friend, good point."   
"Thank you, my friend. Ah, now it looks like Quicksilver is going for his signature move, running around in circles like the maniac moron that he is!"   
"Yes, and it might just work this time...And no! Spyke has now successfully tripped Quicksilver with a, well, spike, and has him firmly locked in place."   
"And now Shadowcat is moving in for the kill! Watch that hand! She's apparently got plans to unleash Bitch-Slap-O-Mania on the trapped Quicksilver!"   
"Yes, and the Quicksilver is now YOUR fruit-in-peril!"   
"Hey! I heard that!" Pietro protested. 

* * *

Rogue stared at the sea of elegantly-dressed youths, all the girls boasting expensive-looking, prom-night-quality dresses, with their dates decked out in equally formal wear, then glanced down at the tatters that Scott had flung upon her as part of her whole "terminally ill little sister" charade, and rolled her eyes.   
"Oh, gee, why do I feel like such an outsider in this environment?" she drawled sarcastically, as Scott nervously pulled at his collar.   
"Eh heh..." he tittered nervously, glancing around. Spotting a couple making their way over, he quickly hissed, "Here, I'll pull them into the bathroom and you zap them. Then we'll take their clothes."   
"Scott, are you nuts?!" Rogue hissed acidly. "There is no way in hell that I'm zapping people and stealing their clothes!"   
"But Rogue, it's the only way we'll fit in and be able to stalk Lance and Jean without getting noticed," Scott pouted. Rogue glared at him.   
"No way in hell," she repeated in a clipped tone. "And this time I mean it! Seriously, I've donned hideous eighties fashions and a stolen wedding gown for you, and I'm drawing the line at _anything_ after the little beggar girl costume! I mean it! There is no way that I'm going to zap people and steal their clothing just to fit in so you can stalk Jean! No way in hell!" 

Five minutes later, Rogue and Scott promptly emerged from the restrooms, looking rather sharp clad in their wine-colored evening gown and all-black suit, respectively. 

* * *

"Um, hello? Is this on?" The captain, looking somewhat ill at ease as he prepared to deliver the bad news, tentatively tapped the microphone. "Um...I know we kind of advertised Creed and the Goo Goo Dolls as the headliners for this cruise..."   
An enthusiastic round of applause followed his immediate naming of the two rock bands, upon which the captain flinched and swallowed hard, pulling at his collar as he added in a tiny voice, "But, um, unfortunately, they had to cancel."   
As the applause and cheers turned to boos and hisses, the captain quickly added, "Yeah, you see, both Scott Stapp _and_ Johnny Rzeznik just _happened_ to develop really bad sinus infections at the same time...of course, it has _nothing_ to do with them finding out five seconds earlier that they were to be sharing the stage with Fred Durst of Limp Bizkit, eh heh."   
Noticing with growing apprehension that his lame excuse didn't exactly appease the indignant customers, the captain quickly added in a rush of words, "So, um, we've gotten the next best thing! While myself and the crew try to weedle Bon Jovi into giving up what they're doing right now, book a Redeye flight to this city, stand around in the freezing night waiting for a second ride, and flying here in a crappy little helicopter and performing in place of Creed and the Goo Goo Dolls, here's the opening act, Revolvers N' Lilies, which is a Guns N' Roses cover band!" 

A really crappy guitar intro, that would have Slash wishing for a gun to shoot both himself and the guitarist covering him in RN'L, followed the captain's words, before an equally crappy (if not crappier!) version of Axl Rose's patented nasal vocals screeched out the opening notes of _Sweet Child O' Mine._

After a few minutes of grumbling, the customers gave up holding onto the hope that either Creed and/or the Goo Goo Dolls might show up despite Fred Durst and his poofy twenty layers of clothing, and grudgingly glided onto the dance floor, while in the background, the Revolvers N' Lilies lead singer screeched out, "Oh...sweet child o' mine." In the distance, dogs could be heard beginning to howl from the harbor. Scott, observing that Lance and Jean had also begun to dance, quickly grabbed Rogue's carefully covered hand and pulled her onto the dance floor.   
"Scott...!" Rogue began to protest, although a hint of a blush slowly stained her normally pale cheeks.   
"Creed or no Creed, nothing's going to ruin this night for us," Scott hissed determinedly. Rogue's blush positively deepened, as she stammered out, almost shyly, "What...what do you mean?"   
"The GN'R cover band is crappier than hell, and I think that singer just about busted my left eardrum, but believe you me, after tonight, you will have steered Lance away from his current relationship, leaving me with Jean!"   
The rosy color staining Rogue's pale cheeks quickly vanished, to be replaced by a steely look. A flash of anger and frustration streaked across her olive-green eyes, but soon made way for a carefully guarded neutral expression.   
"Sure. Whatever. Me and Lance. You and Jean. Won't us four make the cutest couple," Rogue muttered wearily. Scott, oblivious to her sudden mood swing and subsequent quiet weariness, replied cheerfully, "That's right. Tonight is _so_ going to be our night!" 


	9. November Rain

"Ow!" A black-and-blue Pietro sulked, as Tabitha roughly made a half-hearted attempt to dab at his wounds with gauze.   
"Aw, is poor widdle Pie-Pie in pain?" the Brotherhood bombshell cooed, while Pietro glared before mumbling, "You know, as soon as my concussion goes away and I can pin down which one of the five yous is the real you, I am _so_ gonna kick your ass!" Tabitha smirked, before sticking yet another Band-Aid onto one of his numerous cuts and bruises.   
"Don't you wish, Scrawny!" she taunted, slapping a Band-Aid onto an old one that had begun to peel and fall off. 

"Hey, keep it down over there," Fred complained from where he was, seated in front of the battered TV.   
"Yeah, can't you see we're trying to watch this real interesting news story that they're reporting on the tube?" Todd added. Tabitha arched an eyebrow at his words.   
"Since when did you two Einsteins watch the news?" she wanted to know, while Pietro continued to whine and pout pathetically under her medical treatment.   
"Since they announced that former Guns N' Roses guitarists Slash and Izzy Stradlin' beat the living crap out of someone, tied him up with duct tape, and threw him into an elevator because the poor guy was bugging their newest buddy, Creed guitarist Mark Tremonti, about playing some gig on a romantic cruise tonight," Todd gloated. Tabitha perked up at the mention of the two ex-Gunners, and promptly ran over Pietro (literally!), stepping over all eighty-nine pounds of his pitiful, bruise-covered body as she squealed, "Ooh! Slashie-poo!" As Tabitha settled down to drool over the news footage of the three tall, dark-haired guitar gods, Fred and Todd turned to look at each other, dumbfounded over the blonde bombshell's particular nickname for a certain enigmatic ex-Gunner, before muttering, "Slashie-poo?!" 

They didn't have time to ponder over the nickname for long, as the news anchor cut from that story to one involving yet another member of Creed, as she intoned, "In other news, two hours ago, a member of the St. Mary Cruise Line was run over by Jagger Stapp, the three-year-old son of Creed frontman Scott Stapp. The sailor was apparently pestering the rock frontman about a canceled performance on the romantic cruise ship, to the point where Stapp told his son, driving a custom-made Hot Wheels race car, to feel free to play with the nice uncle who had come to visit. Needless to say, it is safe to assume that the St. Mary Cruise Line will be thinking twice before harassing a member of Creed again over canceled gigs."   
"Aw, that's so cute!" Tabitha cooed. The three male members of the Brotherhood, not as easily charmed by the looks of the rock stars involved in both incidents, turned to each other to share incredulous looks, before Pietro cracked, "Oh, yeah, innocent sailors getting the living crap beaten out of them by pretty boy rock stars, ain't that adorable...In fact, it's almost as cute as the raptors in _Jurassic Park!" _Tabitha stopped drooling long enough to turn to Pietro, eyes shining, and squealed, "I know! Weren't they adorable?"   
"Eh heh..." The Brotherhood males began to inconspicuously (except in Freddy's case, since nothing that boy does can be inconspicuous!) inching away from the preening Tabitha. 

* * *

"What do you mean he got thrown down an elevator shaft by a bunch of hard rockers?!" the captain of the St. Mary cruise ship hollered into the phone.   
"I mean one of your sailors was doing his job in trying to pester Creed guitarist Mark Tremonti into performing, but it just so happened that Tremonti had made two new pals in former Guns N' Roses guitarists Slash and Izzy Stradlin', and next thing you know, the sailor got his scrawny ass handed to him on a silver platter, before Slash and Izzy decided to tie him up with duct tape and throw him into an elevator just for the hell of it!" the person on the other line hastened to explain, before adding ominously, "Oh, and by the way? That sailor dude's planning to sue your ass off on account of sending him off on a highly dangerous mission--and by that, he means confronting two members of Guns N' Roses!--without being properly armed or warned beforehand!"   
The captain sighed tiredly, before mumbling, "Okay, so Christian got his ass kicked by two ex-Gunners...and Joey got run over by Scott Stapp's son."   
"Yeah, and you know the guy you sent over to bug Creed drummer Scott Phillips into performing?" the other guy brought up. The captain of the St. Mary sighed again, running a hand through his silver hair, before asking tiredly, "Don't tell me--he got his ass kicked by Tommy Lee, who just happened to be hanging out with his Creedie drummer pal?"   
"Eh, close enough," the person on the other end of the line cracked, before explaining, "No, in fact, a bunch of Phillips's pet dogs tackled him to the ground in an effort to play, and the guy, remembering all the recent dog maulings, promptly got the hell out of the neighborhood, screaming bloody murder."   
The captain began to feel an incoming migraine.   
"Oh, this is just great," he grumbled. "How can it possibly get any worse?!"   
Just then, one of the sailors poked his head into the cabin, mumbling uncertainly, "Um...Captain? Fred Durst got lodged in again due to the twenty layers of gangsta clothing he was wearing, and now he's stuck in the men's room door, hollering obscenities and rapping about he ain't playing no nuthin' until someone gets him dislodged!" 

* * *

Meanwhile, happily clueless to the cruise ship's highly unsuccessful efforts into weedling Creed to perform that night, the couples were waltzing the night away on the dance floor, having become more or less immune to the horrible screeches that the GN'R cover band was blasting out of its amplifiers, supposedly a stunning rendition of _November Rain._ Among the numerous dancing couples were Scott with Rogue and Lance with Jean, with Scott making sure they weren't too far away from the latter couple.   
"Well, can you see them?" Scott hissed out of the corner of his mouth. Rogue darted a brief look at the happy couple, before sighing tiredly, "Yes. They're dancing and smiling, and look absolutely in love."   
"Well, we're just gonna have to change that, now won't we?" Scott muttered gleefully. "After tonight, I have a feeling that it will be you who's dancing with Lance, and me who's with Jean."   
"You're really that desperate to push me into a relationship with Lance?" Rogue muttered grouchily. Scott paused for a while, and looked almost concerned.   
"Rogue," he murmured quietly, "if you don't want to go out with Lance, that's okay with me."   
"Really?" Rogue glanced up, briefly locking eyes with him before looking away. Scott shrugged.   
"Sure," he remarked. "Just as long as you can help me get Jean away from Lance, I don't care who you date."   
"Oh." If Scott noticed the suddenly distant, chilly tone that had overtaken Rogue's voice, he didn't comment on it.   
"Gee, maybe I should chase after Lance, after all," Rogue muttered.   
"Right. Lance," Scott replied. "I mean, after all, you both like black, you both like rock music, and besides, you and Lance totally complement each other, since..."   
Rogue began to tune out Scott's words, as she silently tried to convince herself, _Hn, maybe I _should_ go for Lance, instead of...I mean, it's obvious that Scooter Boy's obsessed with Little Miss Perfect, so it's not like I've got a chance...and besides, Lance _is_ pretty hot...he looks good working out...and he seems like a real sweet guy deep down...and besides...I'm not really interested in him,_ she realized in dismay. Looking up at Scott's face as he happily blabbered away about Jean this and Jean that, Rogue began to feel the deep resentment she'd secretly harbored against the seemingly perfect junior beginning to resurface. _Look at him. He's totally obsessed with Jean. But then again--why shouldn't he be? It's only fitting that the two perfect, mature, and intellectual X-Men date each other; hell, it's practically a damn rule that they should go out and marry and have two kids and be the perfect examples of the perfect American Dream! God forbid they spice things up a bit by having Miss Perfect date the grungy bad boy instead--and yet somehow still manage to keep Scott wrapped around her little finger! _Rogue suddenly realized that, almost unwittingly, she'd been clenching her fists tightly together.   
"Rogue?" Scott's concerned voice broke through her angry barrage of thoughts, and for the first time, the gothic Southern belle realized that Scott had been speaking--and directly to her, rather than rant and rave about how he and Jean were meant to be together.   
"Rogue? Are you all right?" Scott asked, looking down worriedly at her.   
"Oh, gee, you're actually taking time out of your Stalk Jean Mission to ask about little old me's whereabouts, ain't that sweet," Rogue snapped in a bitingly sarcastic voice. Scott drew back, looking shocked and hurt by her angry words, before immediately beginning to apologize, "Rogue, if I did something to upset you, then I'm really sorry, and..."   
"Look, just forget it, okay?" Rogue muttered tiredly, and sunk back into her characteristic resentful silence. Scott sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, as the couple continued to sway back and forth to the music on the dance floor in an attempt to keep up with Lance and Jean.   
"Let me make it up to you. Please?" he requested softly. "You really mean a lot to me, Rogue, and the last thing I would want to do is intentionally hurt you in any way."   
Rogue blushed, shyly raising her head to meet his eyes as she asked, "You really mean that? About my meaning a lot to you?"   
Scott broke off into a grin.   
"Sure, I care a lot about you." And he genuinely seemed to mean that, too. "Now, just as soon as we break up Lance and Jean, I'll make sure to--"   
Rogue's smile quickly disappeared, turning into an angry scowl. The happy flush that had tinted her cheeks was gone, as the gothic vixen exploded in a harsh, steely voice, "Jean this and Jean that! That's all you can think about, isn't it?" Scott snapped back, stunned under the sudden arsenal of words that a furious Rogue sent crashing against him.   
"Rogue, what's the matter with you...?" he started to ask, but Rogue had had enough.   
"Look, you know what? Forget it! Okay? Forget about making it up to me, and demonstrating just how much I mean to you!" Rogue gritted out bitterly. "Just go off and chase after Jean and marry her and have a bunch of babies and be the poster family of the American Dream and all that lovely crap! I'm out of here!" And without another word, Rogue twisted around on her heels and stormed off the dance floor, leaving a stunned Scott staring after her.   
"Rogue...?" he murmured quietly, while onstage, the Guns N' Roses cover band finished their version of the classic _November Rain._

And when your fears subside   
And shadows still remain   
I know that you can love me   
When there's no one left to blame   
So never mind the darkness   
We still can find a way   
'Cause nothin' lasts forever   
Even cold November rain 

Don't ya think that you need somebody   
Don't ya think that you need someone   
Everybody needs somebody   
You're not the only one   
You're not the only one 


	10. Happy Now?

*Okay, okay, I'm updating, I'm updating! Jeez, Ashi, you just had to go and scare me like that with your threat, huh?! x_x I mean, my laziness made me brave enough to the point where I didn't care that I got threatened with a mallet...but you can just thank Ashi for scaring the procrastination right out of me by threatening to sing _November Rain!_ j/k ^_^ No offense or anything, but I don't think my eardrums can handle a version of _November Rain_ that _isn't_ sung by Axl--where do you think I got the idea for the half-assed GN'R cover band to crank out a horrendous version of _Sweet Child O' Mine?_ That's right, by listening to a hideously crappy mp3 of a real-life GN'R cover band that did _Sweet Child!_

* * *

Scott stared in hurt bewilderment as an upset Rogue stormed off the dance floor, leaving him high and dry amidst the sea of dancing couples. Fortunately for him, the GN'R cover band's screechy, hoarse rendition of _November Rain_ had covered up his argument with Rogue, and the other couples were too involved in their happily oblivious relationships to care about the little explosion that had occurred on the dance floor, and Scott was spared of the embarrassment of having his supposed date for the evening walk out on him.   
"Rogue..." Scott hastily made an attempt to go after her, but just as he was about to commence pushing and shoving his way through the crowded dance floor, the captain of the St. Mary approached the stage, blessedly putting an end to the GN'R cover band's horrendous set.   
"Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please?" he began. The couples stopped dancing and turned to face him, as the captain began in a somewhat apologetic voice. "Now, I know the flier advertised Creed and the Goo Goo Dolls as the co-headliners of this cruise...but unfortunately, we here at the St. Mary Cruise Line have found out that former members of Guns N' Roses, a custom-made child's Hot Wheels race car driven by a three-year-old, and a pack of chocolate Labrador dogs have prevented Creed from fulfilling their duties as co-headliners." As the crowds began to express their general disapproval, the captain hastened to explain, "Therefore, the good people here at the St. Mary can only deliver one half of the original contract...and the Goo Goo Dolls will perform later on tonight." To the captain's immense relief, the booing and hisses quickly turned to applause and cheers, and he continued confidently, "Meanwhile, hailing from Southern California to take Creed's place is the one, the only...No Doubt!" 

Scott listened to the captain's announcement half-heartedly, anxiously scanning the crowded room for Rogue. Meanwhile, back onstage, the half-assed GN'R cover band was shoved off, and No Doubt began setting up their equipment. One of the sailors cautiously approached the gloating captain, and asked in awed amazement, "Gee, sir, I know you managed to pester the Goo Goo Dolls into staying, but how did you get No Doubt to perform here tonight? Didn't the original replacement for Creed, Bon Jovi, turn you down flat, and when you went about trying to weedle Creed into performing...well, your men got the living crap beaten out of them?" The preening captain nodded, before taking a newly lit pipe out of his mouth long enough to reply, "Yes, but you see, none of the members of the two previous bands were engaged to be married--well, Mark Tremonti of Creed was, but just as we were making some progress with him, Slash and Izzy showed up to kick Christian's ass, so that didn't work out. However, Gwen Stefani _is_ engaged, and she is so happy about it that it was quite easy suckering her into playing for a bunch of lovesick teens." Meanwhile, onstage, No Doubt had finished setting up their equipment, as Gwen announced that the first song was a classic _Tragic Kingdom_ track, from way back in 1995. An angry musical intro launched the song underway, as Gwen steadied her grip on the microphone, before beginning to sing. 

You had the best   
But you gave her up   
'Cause dependency might interrupt   
Idealistic will so hard to please   
Put your indecisive mind at ease   
You broke the set   
Now there's only singles   
There's no looking back   
This time I mean it 

Are you happy now?   
How is it now?   
Are you happy now?   
Are you happy? 

The uncertainty you had of me   
Brought clouded shady company   
The tenderness habitual   
A seldom-fading ritual   
You killed the pair   
Now only one is breathing   
There's no looking back   
This time I mean it 

No more leaning on your shoulder   
I won't be there, no more bother   
If you feel you just might want me   
That's too bad, I'm not that easy 

The contemplator all those years   
Now you must adhere   
To your new career of liberation   
You've been cast all by yourself   
You're free at last   
You broke the set   
Nw there's only singles   
There's no looking back   
This time I mean it 

You're by yourself   
All by yourself   
You have no one else   
You're by yourself 

As the first thunderous song of the No Doubt setlist ended to great applause, Scott froze, Gwen Stefani's furious, accusing lyrics having struck a chord in him. _Oh, my God,_ he thought, the angry lyrics repeating themselves over and over in his head. _Is this...is this how Rogue feels about me...about us?_ Suddenly, out of the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of the unmistakable Southern belle, and Scott whirled around so fast, he nearly tripped and fell. Rogue, still wearing the stunning, low-cut wine-red evening gown, was leaning against the entranceway, arms crossed and an unmistakably hurt and angry thundercloud darkening her features as she listened intently to--and, more likely than not, strongly identified with--Gwen's lyrics. As soon as she caught sight of Scott looking at her, Rogue's eyes narrowed, and her fury seemed to darken--if that was even possible--as she glared back at him. Scott started after her, as No Doubt followed up the angry and accusing _Happy Now?_ with the lonely, melancholic _Don't Speak,_ calling out her name.   
"Rogue..." he spoke uncertainly, but Rogue was far from ready to confront him now. Like a deer caught in headlights, she froze as she realized that Scott was coming her way, before quickly turning on her heels and fleeing, running as far away from him as possible. Scott's eyes widened when he realized that Rogue was trying to escape from him--and succeeding--and he desperately tried to increase his speed as well, but it was near impossible to weave amidst the massive sea of slow-dancing couples.   
"Rogue! Wait!" he called out, finally having freed himself from the dance floor and struggling out of the crowd to chase after her. "Wait!" 

Scott finally managed to stumble his way out of the lights and noise of the ship's ballroom, and now stared dazedly into the darkness.   
"Rogue?" he called out uncertainly, but the only response he got was silence. "Rogue? Come on, Rogue! You know it's useless to try and escape your problems!"   
As if in response, there was a light tumbling noise, followed by soft cursing, and Scott zeroed in on the sound, following it to its source. Arriving on the scene, he found Rogue, kneeling on the floor and swearing softly in her Southern-accented voice. Upon closer inspection, Scott realized that in her flight to escape from him, Rogue had broken the heel of one of her stilettos. Kneeling down to roughly match her height, Scott picked up the discarded and now useless high heel, and gently handed it to her. Rogue angrily snatched the stiletto, before drawing herself to her full height and beginning to limp away, holding the broken shoe in her hands. Scott stood up as well, and hastened to catch up to her.   
"Rogue, come on. Will you at least talk to me?" he pleaded, trotting behind her and making sure to give Rogue her personal space. Silence followed his desperate request, as Rogue ignored his words and instead stubbornly kept on limping and stumbling her way into the darkness.   
"You know, running away from your problems isn't going to help you solve them," Scott pointed out wisely. "Won't you at least let me apologize for the way I've treated you in the last couple of weeks?"   
Rogue refused to acknowledge his words, and angrily plowed on ahead, as if to say, _What's there to apologize about? Wouldn't you rather chase after Princess Jean?_ Scott paused, frustrated at this reception, before calling out angrily, "Hey, after the humiliation you put me through on the dance floor, walking out on me in front of all those people, I think I deserve at least an explanation from you!" At his words, an outraged Rogue turned around furiously, snapping in a vicious verbal abuse, "What the hell do you mean, after all the humiliation _I_ put _you_ through?! What about the living nightmare you put me through--?!" She broke off suddenly when Scott grinned, as he chirped boyishly, "Hey, got you talking to me again!" Rogue paused in mid-sentence, as realization dawned upon her. She opened her mouth, as if to angrily retort his words, but finally gave up and closed it with a snap, standing there in silently grudging admiration. Scott broke into a genuine grin, as Rogue finally relented and reluctantly allowed a grudging half-smile to briefly flutter across her lips, removing some of the dark thunderclouds from her eyes.   
"Rogue, I...I'm sorry. For the way I've been treating you, for being so focused on Jean and neglecting you, for not realizing how lucky I was to have such a wonderful and amazing girl caring for me. I'm sorry. I feel like such an idiot," Scott apologized, sounding both awkward and yet brutally honest at the same time. Rogue was quiet, but Scott quickly went on.   
"I mean, I feel like a blindfold has been lifted from my eyes for the first time, and I've finally realized that the most perfect girl was under my nose all this time," he continued shyly. Shrugging, he added, "I guess it took Gwen Stefani's lyrics to finally get to me and serve as a wake up call, and make me realize that I've been searching for the wrong girl all this time. I guess I did have the best, but I stupidly gave her up, and I'm not the least bit happy about it...and..." His voice trailed off shyly, as Rogue stood there, listening to him in silence. Finally, she spoke.   
"Well, so it took Gwen Stefani to serve as your wake-up call...but if you'd really listened to her lyrics, you would have realized that if you feel you just might want me, that's too bad, I'm not that easy," Rogue informed him coldly, before turning around and walking out of his life...for the second time. 


	11. Iris

*Note # 1: Okay, I know this here chapter's corny as hell, but bear with me; it's the blowoff to a fic I thought would never get past five chapters, I'm tired, and I've never been good with romance, anyway, so, um...forgive me? Please? 

*Note # 2 (Yeah, I get to have more than one A/Ns, cause I say so! Nyah! ^_^): I know it took me longer to update, but I have a good excuse! The site shorted out on me when I went to update, and so to pass the time, I went on Yahoo to look at some pictures, got distracted by this one scan of a shirtless Scott Stapp leaning over a waterfall, and forgot all about my chapter! -_- Oh, well. It was well worth it--for me, anyway! ^_^ And Ashi, don't go start whining and singing _November Rain_ or anything to retaliate for the lateness of this chapter, I'm gonna put Scooter Boy through some serious humiliation (I couldn't find an appropriate moment for Rogue to bitch-slap the hell out of him, so you'll have to settle for public torture), so be happy and don't even _think_ about warming up your vocal chords! 

* * *

Rogue leaned against the railing of the ship's deck, staring out into the dark, glossy ocean and fighting back a wave of guilt as she recalled the arsenal of furious words she'd fired off against Scott...specifically, the part about how if he suddenly decided he now wanted her, that was too bad, because she wasn't that easy. It wasn't as if she was being a bitch when she'd broken his heart, nor was she purposely tormenting him by playing hard to get--she wasn't that type of person. What she was, though, was someone with at least _some_ degree of integrity, and it wouldn't have felt right to her to just suddenly jump into a guy's arms after the way he'd been ignoring her ever since they'd met. Rogue growled, glaring off into the darkness. Sometimes--or most of the time--she hated and resented her angel of conscience. 

"Rogue!"   
Rogue winced, as the familiar voice called out her name, before turning around and deciding that Scott deserved far better than just the silent treatment from her. As the hurt-looking Scott trotted over toward the ship's deck, Rogue spoke up in a tired and weary voice, drained from its previous anger and resentment.   
"Look, Scott, don't do this. It's not fair to you, it's not fair to me...and in a sense, it's not even fair to Jean," she murmured warily. "I know you're not like most other guys our age, but even you have your shallow side--and you've more than shown it tonight if all it took was a song to make you fall out of love with the one who's been your dream girl from the moment you met her." Scott stopped dead in his tracks upon her words, looking both hurt and upset.   
"But Rogue," he began quietly, "Jean Grey is not my dream girl. She hasn't been for a long time." Rogue leaned back, stunned by his words.   
"What do you mean she's not your dream girl?" she wanted to know, speaking in an almost accusing voice. "I mean--for the last several weeks, all you've done is haul me around in an effort to break up Lance and Jean so you could go out with her."   
"I'm afraid that was more jealousy on my part than anything else," Scott admitted guiltily. "I mean, Jean and I have always been like brother and sister...but ever since we both entered high school and everyone was paired off into couples, most people just naturally assumed that eventually, the two of us would hook up, since we complemented each other so perfectly. And I guess I've always gone along with that notion."   
"But--" Rogue started to protest, before Scott cut her off.   
"Jean and I both thought we had no other choice but to date each other--it was almost expected of us," he admitted. "And when Jean realized that the one she wanted was Lance, and not me...I guess I got a little jealous and overprotective. And I didn't know what to do, since our entire lives, it was like, Jean and I _had_ to end up together somehow. I guess I just went along with that, and since I'd always liked Jean, I just kind of naturally assumed that meant I loved her as well."   
"Don't you love her?" Rogue ventured shyly. Scott paused, pondering over the particular question, before meeting her eyes and answering honestly and simply, "No," as the concert noises carried over to the deck, signaling the end of No Doubt's set and the beginning of the Goo Goo Doll's set.   
"Oh." Rogue didn't know what else to say, and instead drifted off into an awkward silence. 

Meanwhile, off in the distance, the opening chords of _Black Balloon_ carried over to the silent deck, and Scott began to smile, remembering their escapades earlier in the evening. As Johnny Rzeznik's sweetly soft voice began to sing, Scott broke the silence by teasing, "Hey, notice how it's Baby's black balloon _makes_ her fly...not ate a fly?" Rogue ducked her head, blushing lightly, but allowed a guilty laugh to escape nonetheless, as she protested, "You're never going to let me forget that, are you?" Scott smiled, but then admitted, "Yeah, well, so long as you don't spill about the whole Axl Van Halen thing...I think we're even."   
"It's a deal," Rogue murmured, smiling but casually avoiding eye contact with him. A stretch of silence followed, until Scott broke the ice again by speaking up in a simple and sincere voice, "Hey, Rogue? I'm sorry. For...what happened." Rogue cleared her throat.   
"Yeah, well...I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have lashed out at you like that," she apologized quietly. 

Just then, _Black Balloon_ finished, and the soft, sweet opening chords to another classic, _Iris,_ began to play. Scott and Rogue stood silently for a few moments, just quietly listening and appreciating the sweetly sincere love song. 

And I'd give up forever to touch you   
'Cause I know that you feel me somehow   
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be   
And I don't want to go home right now 

"Hey," Scott murmured, and Rogue opened her eyes and glanced up to meet his gaze, unwittingly locking eyes with him.   
"Mmm?" she murmured, as Scott made a suggestion that sent a happy flush staining her normally pale cheeks.   
"Care to dance?" he asked quietly, and Rogue blushed. 

And all I can taste is this moment   
And all I can breathe is your life   
'Cause sooner or later it's over   
I just don't want to miss you tonight 

"Scott...we're nowhere near the dance floor or the concert," she pointed out, blushing furiously and looking down at the ground. Scott shrugged it off as a minor inconvenience, and instead held out his hand.   
"Does that really bother you?" he wanted to know, speaking in a soft voice. Rogue blushed again, but then a smile shone on her face, as she shrugged and muttered, "Not really." Extending one carefully gloved hand, she shyly and tentatively accepted Scott's invitation to dance, and the two began slowly swaying to the music carried over from the Goo Goo Dolls concert. 

And I don't want the world to see me   
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand   
When everything's made to be broken   
I just want you to know who I am 

And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming   
Or the moment of truth in your lies   
When everything feels like the movies   
And you bleed just to know you're alive 

And I don't want the world to see me   
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand   
When everything's made to be broken   
I just want you to know who I am 

I just want you to know who I am   
I just want you to know who I am   
I just want you to know who I am 

"Rogue?" Scott murmured, as _Iris_ drew to a close.   
"Mmm?" came her quietly content response. Scott blushed, as he stammered out, almost shyly, "You think...you think we could...do something...sometime?" Rogue raised her head, and grinned.   
"Now, now, Scott," she began in a chastising tone, "have you forgotten?" And then, quoting from _Happy Now?,_ she repeated, "If you think you just might want me, that's too bad, I'm not that easy!" Scott blushed furiously, and instinctively backed away a few inches from Rogue, dropping her hands.   
"I...I'm sorry; I didn't mean to act like that, I..." His voice trailed off, when he saw the teasing grin on Rogue's face. Leaning up to more or less match his height, Rogue placed one carefully gloved hand onto his lips, and kissed him in that style, before drawing back and saying lazily, "Now, Scott, we can go out if you want to...but only on one condition."   
Scott nervously pulled at his collar.   
"What's that?" he wanted to know. In response, Rogue cracked her own version of his infamous maniacal grin that he'd use when chasing after Jean.   
"You'll see," she drawled in that maddening tone of hers. 

* * *

Jean, holding Lance's hand, called out a quick greeting as she walked up to Rogue, lounging on the lawn in front of the school's outdoors amphitheater and lazily chewing on a French fry.   
"Hey, Jean, saved you and Lance two front-row seats," Rogue waved. Just then, Kitty and Jubilation bopped up to the trio, wide-eyed, as Kitty chirped, "Wow, Rogue. I can't believe you've, like, managed to convince Scott to do this."   
Rogue shrugged, offering some fries to Kitty and Jubilation, who each took a couple, before replying modestly, "Well, guess I'm more convincing than I'd thought." As Kitty and Jubilation giggled, Rogue further explained in a gleeful tone, "Besides, I figured that since No Doubt were the ones who helped get me and Scott together, I felt it only fair one of us paid tribute to them!" 

Just then, Tabitha climbed up to the stage, welcoming the growing audience that had come to see the performance, before gloating, "And now, here to sing No Doubt's 1995 smash _Just A Girl,_ give it up for mine and your MVP of the boys' soccer team, Scott Summers!"   
The familiar upbeat intro started, and an embarrassed Scott, decked out in a pair of poofy blue jogging pants, a tiny white tank top, a dash of platinum dye sprayed into his hair, and a tacky red bead glued onto his forehead, grudgingly shuffled over to the audience, blushing furiously as he took a hold of the microphone.   
"Take this pink ribbon off my eyes..." 

**~ The End ~**


End file.
